


Between The Lies

by NovaPrism



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Chronal Disassociation, Dark, Dark Draco Malfoy, Dark Magic, Drama & Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Legilimency (Harry Potter), M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Occlumency (Harry Potter), Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 63,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28999410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovaPrism/pseuds/NovaPrism
Summary: Hermione is on a secret mission to defeat Lord Voldemort when she is captured by Death Eaters. The story begins during a vicious interrogation at the hands of Voldemort that leaves Hermione nearly dead. We discover that she’s been training with Snape for this exact situation but with her mind torn and her ever changing circumstances it is unclear if Hermione failed her mission or if she meant to be caught.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore/Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 35
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dark HP fanfic centered around HG & DM aka DRAMIONE
> 
> I don’t own these characters or this world. I’m just a fan with a lot of time of my hands. All credit to JK Rowling!
> 
> I’ve no idea where this is headed in terms of length (I do have a beginning and an ending set in mind) and I don't know if anyone will ever even read this. I will edit this extensively and probably rename it several times. 
> 
> Inspired by many other DRAMIONE fanfics which I’ll credit once I have more time.
> 
> Warning: adult topics, adult language, violence, sex, rape, non con, dubious consent & all other dark twisted stuff. Please don’t read if you’re sensitive to dark subjects. This is not going to be pretty. 
> 
> There is a plot, there is romance and there will be SMUT. 
> 
> Another warning: I am not a writer. I’m a reader and new to fanfic and this site. If I’m breaking any rules please let me know. Please comment below with any suggestions. I will have tons of grammatical errors - I’m sure. I’m spilling this onto the notes section of my phone on my free time so it is what it is. I’ll do my best to correct things along the way. Wide open for advice and constructive criticism.  
> ***

_The taste of peppermint, the smell of fresh parchment, Harry’s laugh, the touch of Ron’s calloused hands in hers._

Every sensation, every conversation, every memory tore thru her mind. Her entire life unfolded and scattered around her in a dizzying tornado whiplashing thru her brain. In the center of it she felt herself - her soul - alongside a dark and sickly shadow.

The darkness spread all around her and seeped itself into every corner of her mind. A dark veiny presence littering around every glowing memory like a demented web - coursing it’s way to her soul.

“I’ll find your secrets mudblood.” Voldemort’s voice slithered around her and she shuddered. Her screaming had ceased hours ago, she lay in a puddle as several death eaters held her steady, while Voldemort violated her mind.

She had to hold on. She’s been prepared for this, they all had.

Every DA member was forced to take occlumens training in case of captivity. It was essential and detrimental to the war. Harry ran basic drills with the front line soldiers. Those who showed an aptitude for it took advanced training with Snape.

Hermione had exceeded expectations, as usual. Snape had been mildly shocked at her progression and began individual training shortly after. Within a year she’d been deemed proficient enough to begin teaching new recruits which helped Harry put his focus solely on defeating Voldemort. He could be defeated. He could die. They could kill him. They just had to -

No! No.

Hermione struggled to form the thought. How could they defeat him? Harry think of Harry.

She felt Voldemort prod more forcefully at her memory of Harry and his focus on the war.

No! No!

Her body shuddered and a soft strangled sob escaped her throat no longer able to scream.

Voldemort retreated momentarily. Long scaly fingers fisted in her hair. She gasped as the dark room slowly rematerialized before her. She felt some of her hair give way at the root of her scalp and she winced, tears streaming down her cheeks as Voldemort’s reptilian face came into focus

“You’ve been well trained mudblood. Better than I’d given Snape credit for.” He said lazily as he sat back in his chair. Nagini quickly slithered around his torso protectively. Voldemort’s red slotted eyes closed in concentration.

He dropped her into the hands of the death eaters currently holding her body in place, her head lolled. A momentary feeling of relief and then nausea assaulted her.

The overwhelming sensation gave her just enough momentum to throw her head to the side and vomit on the ground. Last time she’d vomited on the robes of one of the masked Death Eaters and had been promptly kicked her backside several times in disgust. She still couldn’t fully stand up straight because of it.

Several Death Eaters voiced their distaste at the regurgitated gruel she had splattered at their feet. Bellatrix followed by sticking out her tongue in feigned repulsion.

Hermione doubted anything truly repulsed Bellatrix anymore. She often looked at her with greedy eyes - eager and hopeful that her master would allow her to play with Hermiones mind as well. Occasionally daring to ask to step in and assist.

Voldemort never acquiescing to her. In those moments she’d see Bellatrix face drop and retreat shamefully. Hermione noticed that unlike the other Death Eaters Bellatrix was the only one who dared speak out of turn without suffering any consequences. Hermione concluded that his constant rejection was punishment enough by the look on Bellatrix face. She wondered if he punished her privately.

One Death Eater had crudely suggested fucking the information out of her while he palmed her breast roughly and had been cruico’d for several minutes. During a different torture session Pius Thicknese had been one of the Death Eaters holding her down, his face contorted with horror at her screams. Stuttering through his words Pius offered the help of a renowned Bulgarian legilimens. The Prime Ministers body had flown across the room with such violence that Hermione was not entirely sure he’d awakened afterwards. He hadn’t been present at her interrogations since.

For some reason Voldemort had not allowed anyone to torture or interrogate Heemione other than himself. When he did he would always use legilimancy to try to attempt to draw out whatever information he was after.

Hermione originally thought his ego prevented him from seeking a a different means of magic or gifted wizard. After mulling it over for hours on end in between sessions she realized he simply could not allow anyone else to delve into her mind. Voldemort suspected that the DA knew the secret to his defeat and he was worried or at-least paranoid enough that he wouldn’t risk any of his followers to share this knowledge.

Her body sagged and she was promptly dropped on the ground, landing in her own vomit. Hermione took deep staggering breaths trying to steady herself and focus. She tried standing up and slipped on soupy contents of her stomach.

Voldemort flicked his hand in a dismissive gesture his eyes still closed.

Hermione was suddenly being violently dragged by the collar of her tattered rags. She reached up to her throat desperately to keep from choking and pushed with her legs to help propel her body towards the Death Eater who had hold of her.

Once they were out of the main room and a heavy door closed behind them she felt the floor fall away and swallow her body whole.

She’d been apparated back into the dungeons. Judging by the lack of added dizziness it hadn’t been very far. She could still feel the darkness pricking in her mind - slowly receding. Her location varied day to day but she could always tell when Voldemort was close by after a interrogation. The effects of his probing took longer to wear off when she was locked in the manor as him.

The Death Eater swiftly kicked her into her new cell. Something gave way as he kicked, a deep crack thundered in her chest. She landed with a barely audible groan, no energy left to voice her pain or adjust her limbs. Hermione simply laid strewn on the cold concrete floor trying to breathe normally again.

“It’s a shame you splat your breakfast all over the floor.” The masked Death Eater said mockingly. “I’ve been instructed not feed you until the dark lord summons you again” he chided flicking his tongue thru his teeth. “Could be days.”

Hermione focused on breathing - harsh ragged sounds escaped her lips with every attempt. She heard the Death Eaters heavy boots retreat as he whistled some old familiar tune. Only when everything around her was quiet and she could only hear her own ragged breath did she force try to sit up - her chest cracked again, she dropped instantly.

Dragging herself into the corner the cell she quickly assessed her new surroundings in between fast, shallow breaths. Four walls, three were concrete and the main wall was gated and enchanted. A small rusted chamber pot to the far left, also enchanted. No light except a small glow seeping thru the gate. She could see her hands in front of her face but only just.

Focusing on her injuries Hermione spent the next few minutes slowly running her hands tentatively around her midsection, wincing when she pushed down on the areas that felt sore. Her breath was still ragged, if she tried to breathe too deeply or quickly a jolting pain would overwhelm her. Broken ribs - atleast one on the right and possibly two on the left. Maybe a damaged lung. Without her wand she couldn’t tell if it was punctured and she was bleeding internally. She hoped it was killing her.

Please let me die.

The thought betrayed her soul but she didn’t swat it away. Not anymore. Death was the best Hermione could hope for, whether it be slow or quick. Death was all that was left.

***

The first few days of captivity Hermione had followed her training. Assessing the cell thoroughly, looking for weaknesses. Her first day she’d found the chamber pot wasn’t bolted to the ground. She’s waited for her next meal and violently attacked The Death Eater as he slid a bowl of watery gruel into the cell. She managed to incapacitate him and grab his wand thru the grate only to find it was useless in her hand.

Hermione flicked the wand furiously as the Death Eater slowly awakened and began screaming for help. Another Death Eater had run into the dungeons and quickly disarmed her, slamming her body against the concrete wall.

When she’d awakened several Death Eaters argued at the gate of her cell.

“I’m going to KILL that mudblood bitch” hissed the Death Eater she had attacked.

Unmasked now and holding his bloodied head Hermione recognized him as Yaxley from the daily prophet and wanted posters. From before the ministry had fallen 

“No! She must be delivered intact. Those were Dark Lords orders” barked another masked Death Eater.

“Get yourself cleaned up - I’ll take care of the mudblood”

A third masked Death Eater simply leaned again the wall and stared into her cell. His form was tall and trim- foreboding. Gloved hands tucked into pristine black slack in a relaxed pose. Hermione slid into the farthest corner of the cell.

“Well mudblood, we may not be able to punish you for that just yet” the second Death Eater spat at her furiously.

“but -“ he continued as he lifted his wand vanishing her bowl of gruel and the chamber pot altogether “that doesn’t mean we have to play nice either. You can shite yourself for all we care” and with that he stomped out of the dungeons.

The lanky Death Eater remained leaning against the wall. Not a care in the world. Gloved hands tucked into his black slacks as if he were posing for Witch Weekly.

Even with his mask on Hermione new he was boring his eyes into her. She stared back. The hair on her arms prickled. The silence consumed the air around them - deafening.

“Kill me” she rasped.

She didn’t know why those words left her mouth in that exact moment. They were out before she could think.

Hands braces again the scratchy concrete walls Hermione closed her eyes - waiting.

“You wish, Granger” said a familiar voice. Haughty and indifferent. A voice she knew all too well. The sound reverberated all around her and her eyes shot open.

“COMING MALFOY?” The second Death Eater yelled from the top of the stairs.

Draco. It was Draco. He was a Death Eater. Of course she’d known he’d taken the mark. He’d killed Dumbledore sixth year and all but vanished. Hermione hadn’t seen Draco or really heard much of the Malfoys since.

Lucius was occasionally seen in battle. Neville had severely injured him early on in the war, severing his wand arm. He still appeared now and then but never at the fore front.

Then again the Malfoys weren’t known for their bravery.

Draco slipped off the wall. Hands still in his pockets and casually walked away.

Panting and struggling to breathe evenly Hermione has slipped down the scratchy concrete wall and cried.

It was the first time since being captured that she allowed herself to shed tears other than when she was being tortured by Voldemort. Her body curled into a ball and she’s sobbed uncontrollably until she fell asleep.

When she’d awakened a new smaller chamber bot had been placed in the cell. It shimmered ever so slightly. Hermione carefully crawled to it and attempted to touch it. Surprisingly she was able to fully grasp it with her fingers without any pain or injury. Lifting it however was impossible. No manner of prying or pushing lifted the darn thing. A sticking charm she concluded. When she tried to kick it her leg bounced away mere inches before ever touching the pot. A cushioning charm.

The same charm was used all around her cell to keep her from bludgeoning herself to death. She already tried that too. The first moment she was left alone.

Hermione focused on her training. Occlumens, dueling positions, spells, charms and physical drills. Her magic was suppressed but she could still speak the incantations aloud even if they were useless.

Hermione pretended it was just another day at the camps amongst her friends who practiced and trained alongside her. Pretending the sun warmed her skin and the wind lifted her wild curls. She flicked her wrist and watched her footwork. When she wasn’t practicing occlumency or dueling she did physical drills to maintain her physique. Her space was limited but she was creative. Lunges, squats, pushups - all things she could do in her cell for hours until she collapsed.

In her early days of captivity she’d been able to keep up with training but her physical abilities slowly deteriorated with every interrogation session. Her mind faltered and her body weakened. The injuries piled up on one another, as did her bruises. Weeks passed and Hermione found herself unable to run drills or move other than to relieve herself or to eat.

She spent more and more time practicing her occlumens. Filing away all her memories they way Snape had vigorously instructed her to. Burying the most important to the point where she could hardly access them herself. Distorting ones that held the path to her deepest secrets. Pushing forward memories that lead to nothing.

Her training with Snape had been quite thorough bordering on cruel but never painful.

“You are a exceptionally natural occlumens, Miss Granger. Much like myself. If you discipline your mind you could easily become our greatest asset.” She recalled him saying during an advanced session.

Snape had requested her pulled from the front line afterward and spent hours training her one on one.

“You’ve already accomplished the art of deception” Snape told her after a lengthy session. He’d been probing into her parents for an hour. Hermione slowly offered memories of them. Laughing during dinner at her fathers terrible jokes. Christmas shopping with her mum at a muggle mall.

When he pushed for more she surfaced a memory of herself crying in her dormitory. Puddles on the floor because Seamus had made fun of her hair and the other boys had laughed along with him, even Ron had chuckled lightly.

“Clever” Snape sighed as he retreated once more.

“The Dark Lord will look for vulnerabilities. He hungers for them. But he will not be easily diverted. The memory must be within the same subject and topic. Do not change the scenery entirely or he’ll see it for the distraction it is. Let’s try again.” His eyes boring into hers once more 

Snape resumed the search into her parents knowing it was one of Hermiones deepest secret. He was searching for the memory of when she obliviated them. If he found it it would affect her deeply, her shield would drop allowing him to seep further into her mind and dig out their location. In the hands of Voldemort this information would be used against her. He would dangle her parent before her with unspeakable cruelness until she gave him everything he needed to defeat Harry.

Snape pushed further and Hermione offered a memory of her mother crying in the garden after an argument with her father. He’d wanted to leave Europe but her mother wouldn’t leave Hermione even though they only saw her on holiday. Snape gripped the memory with sharp claws as Hermione held her mother’s hand silently.

Where did her father want to move again? The question repeated in her mind forcefully.

No! No.

Snape sank deeper as her fathers memories flashed before her. Watching movies as a family. Conversations about her father’s work. Reading a book in his study while he worked. A large framed map hung above his office desk.

No.

Snape pushed back easily as Hermione struggled to keep her shields up. Her father, a book, a desk. Quickly a memory surfaced and it was filled with tension. Her parents were seated in the study side by side having “the talk” with Hermione. Her skin flushed and she couldn’t look into theirs eyes. Their approach was very open and matter of fact. Clinical but human.

Hermiones heart had been racing. Hoping the conversation would end soon so she could run to her room and die of embarrassment.

Then her father had asked her if she had any interest in any of the boys in school or girls, “hey, no judgement” he exclaimed throwing his hands up in the air. Hermione had half laughed and somewhat relaxed.

“We just want you to be prepared and - well we want you to trust yourself and the person you share your body with - whenever you decide that you’re ready. Just be sure they are worthy of you, my love” her mother said patting her husbands tense shoulders.

Hermione’s mind took in her mother’s words as her fathers question hung in the air.

“There is a boy” she finally said. “But he’s not worthy of me. He never will be.”

She turned away from her parents somewhat confused faces and looked out the window. It was a beautiful sunny day, golden white light shown thru the room. White and golden, like him.

Snapes intention changes then and he prodded forward and the golden light. Hermione continued to resist but not at as forcefully. Memories floated to the surface ones she had hidden from herself and Snape pushed through them with slight force.

It was more of a secret to herself than to anyone else. One she’d never wanted to analyze or admit and had tucked away into her subconscious before ever realizing she was a natural occlumens.

“Interesting” Snape drawled retreating again.

He pondered as Hermione refocused.

“I have to say I’m quite impressed, Miss Granger.”

Hermiones fingers twisted around her wand nervously.

“You -you are?” She asked shakily. A deep flush rising up her neck and ear. She burned with shame.

Snape turned and circled his office pacing. Thinking.

“It is wrapped in purity and light. It could work” Snape thought out loud turning to face her.

“Miss Granger, what if I told you that you could end this war sooner than we expected - That you could spare countless lives and possibly save your friends?”

Hermione stared back at Snape wide eyed. Unsure of what he meant. She considered his choice of words and the question he posed. A question he already knew the answer to.

“I would die for my friends, my family, for the order.” She replied tilting her chin assuredly.

“There are things worse than dying, Miss Granger.”

He turned and stared sadly into a portrait of Dumbledore that hung in a corner of his office. The portrait Dumbledore stared back for a moment and then lowered its eyes.

“Most sacrifices take everything but our lives. An empty existence.” He said quietly almost a whisper 

Hermione resisted the urge to console him. Her hand lifted momentarily and dropped. Snape had never confided in her so. He spent most his days locked away brewing potions for all manner of things. All of which were crucial for the war. From healing the nastiest of curses to dealing the most efficient death in counter attacks. Aside from occlumency training he was ever hardly seen outside of this room.

“Anything Severus. Anything it takes.” Hermione said determined.

Snape turned an nodded.

“We will need daily sessions from now on. Starting tomorrow.” He slid into his desk and began shuffling through piles of textbooks.

Hermione took that as her queue to leave .


	2. TWO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accidentally deleted it without saving.Thankfully I found parts of it saved on my phone notes. It also deleted the comments from the original 2nd chapter - sorry and thank you, whoever you were. 
> 
> I fixed the chapter count - it was set to complete - its now undetermined.
> 
> My brain is fried but more is coming!
> 
> WARNING: I am putting this chapter out again because I already had + I like where it's currently at. BUT - I will most likely make a few changes as the rest of the story develops. Will probably be this way for at least the first few chapters. Bare with me.

***

A distant cracking sound broke her trance and she stared into the darkness. Hermione had slipped into her mind without realizing it. An instinctive reflex to escape the pain coursing through her chest, the sensations slammed back into her as she emerged. A small shadow appeared before her gated cell. A house elf.

“Is the Mudblood hungry?” The elf squeaked, eyeing her up and down.

Hermione slumped backwards, ignoring the elf and stared at the wall focusing on her ragged breathing.

“Is the Mudblood hurt?” The elf squeaked again, staring at her with growing concern.

It had appeared a few days after her capture. Always asking the same questions. It sometimes brought a piece of fruit or water. Hermione never accepted anything from it, assuming it was a trick, due to her well known soft spot for house elves and other undervalued magical beings. Someone had sent this elf to disarm her mentally or otherwise. Whatever the case, it was best to ignore it.

The elf only ever asked the same two questions and once ignored, after a few minutes, it would promptly leave.

With a _CRACK!_ the wide eyed elf vanished as usual. Hermione continued to stare at the wall, trying to stay present- focused, her breathing was erratic. She attempted to ease the tension in the muscles of her abdomen and wheezed from the pain. She leaned her head against the concrete trying to find the right balance between tensing and relaxing. Her muscles were starting to cramp but if she fully relaxed, her lungs felt like they would explode. Hermione began hyperventilating with her efforts.

_CRACK!_

The elf was back and beside her now, it had never entered her cell before. It held up a small bony hand with thin skeletal fingers spread as it neared. Hermione tried to flinch away but couldn’t gather the energy. The bony hand hovered over her face. A subtle vibration ran across her body, the elf was trying to detect something. Her eyes shot open at the realization that the elf hadn't harmed her. The vibration receded and the elfs face widened in panic.

I’m dying. 

The realization both terrified and exhilarated her. This was the best answer. She had failed her mission and this was the only other alternative.

Another _CRACK!_ and the elf was gone.

Hermione breathed in small gulps of air, hyperventilating in between barely audible groans from the pain. Don’t breathe. Don’t breathe. She chanted. Just stop breathing. But her chest shook with effort and betrayed her.

The Death Eater said it would be days until she was fed again. That meant she would be undisturbed for at least a day. She could die and nobody would know until it was too late - it was perfect. Fear and sadness should’ve overwhelmed her at the realization but the pain and strain from her body’s attempts to suck air into her lungs were all she could focus on.

Another _CRACK!_ and the elf was inside the cell once more. This time carrying a small wooden box and setting it down. It bent down and rummaged through its contents hurriedly. It juggled several small vials and reached for Hermione's neck, pushing her face up.

Hermione tried to lift her arm and push the elf away but the movement sent a jolt of pain deep within her lungs. She let out a strangled coughing sound and the elf took the opportunity to dump a vial of neon yellow liquid down her throat. An overpowering bitterness assaulted her senses as the liquid seared down her tongue and set her throat aflame. The elf kept its hand firmly on Hermione’s neck, tilting her chin up. She stared at the elf with wild eyes as the liquid burned its way down, trying not to open her mouth again, ignoring the burning urge to gasp for air. She failed miserably, sputtering seconds later, choking. The elf shoved another vial down her throat, this time sickeningly sweet and gritty. Hermione recognized the taste as a nutritional potion - particularly potent judging by the sweetness.

Unable to fight off the elf Hermione held still as her breathing pattern hitched up. Hyperventilating once more. The elf prodded her ribs with its free hand and she jerked violently, gasping. As her lips parted the elf acted quickly and tipped a final vial into her mouth, a rotten chalky taste coated the inside of her mouth - some variant of Skelegrow. The bony hand covered her mouth tightly to prevent her from vomiting.

Hermione swallowed forcefully and slumped onto the floor fully. She pathetically tried dragging her limp body away from the elf. It wobbled around her as she inched across the floor. A snap of its fingers and she was flipped onto her back. The sudden motion stunned her with so much pain she couldn’t even scream.

Why is it taking so long to die she thought, tears streaming down the sides of her face. The burning moved down into her chest and threatened to combust. Hermione thrashed.

The elf continued on, lifting her tattered rags, and began rubbing a thick ointment across her chest and stomach. Her body heaved involuntarily with violent shivers. Another snap and Hermione stilled. She felt her body shake and shiver but as she looked down she remained frozen, her arms laid still on either side, she’d been petrified. Inside she was thrashing wildly, her skin on fire, her chest swelling beyond its limits.

With a press of a bony finger the elf prodded a broken rib glistening with the thick green ointment. A deep hollow pop reverberated into Hermione's chest. She lost consciousness.

When she awakened the elf was gone.

Hermione carefully pried herself off the floor surprised that her efforts didn’t cause her additional pain. Her breathing was normal now, no wheezing. She took several deep breaths. Gripping the wall for support she stood fully, painlessly. Realizing her abdomen area was entirely numb she quickly lifted her rags revealing a badly bruised torso. The green goo had fully absorbed into her skin leaving only a slightly oily residue. Her ribs protruded from her chest from malnutrition but they were no longer broken. Her lungs were clear. Her bruises remained and hadn’t faded in the slightest which meant she’d only been out for a few hours - less than a day.

The bloody elf had healed her.

Tears sprang at the realization. A panic overtook her.

No. No. No. oh god, no.

She was healthy. Enough to survive more interrogations. Healthier than she’d felt in days, weeks. Strong enough to stand and move about. It would take weeks and extreme force to get her back into a near death state. Near death. That was important. Pain was key.

***

"The Dark lord must feel your defenses fall. This is crucial.” Snape's voice echoed around her as his office slowly faded back into view. Small beads of perspiration had formed above his brow. They'd been training for hours - for months. Hermione tried to bulldoze through the steps, confident in her ability, but Snape kept the pace of her progress slow and grueling. He was holding back.

He reached inside his robes to produce a handkerchief, eyeing her tensely before continuing. “Layer your secrets, carefully, unfolding the less valuable ones slowly, reluctantly. Never offering, let him take, let him destroy. The feeling will be indescribable. Beyond pain, beyond any fear you’ve ever imagined.” He stopped momentarily and met her stare. “A part of yourself, your soul, will fracture. It must!”

Hermione had wavered at the thought of breaking her soul, at what secrets Voldemort’s would need to uncover to truly wreck her. She gripped Snape's worn leather chair for support as doubt crept in.

“I won’t give them up Severus, any of them” Her voice trembled. She was dizzy with exhaustion, her mental defenses down, bare. ““I can do this without breaking. I can do this”. she repeated with feigned confidence, her voice small and almost pleading.

“The Dark Lord will never believe it. He’s penetrated countless minds. He knows how it happens and precisely when it happens. In order to deceive him you must sacrifice a part of you. It must be pure enough that it will break you in the process. Do this and you will succeed - do this and you will end the war.”

A sacrifice, Hermione repeated to herself.

Snape had seen every memory, every part of her, except her deepest secrets. They remained at her center, golden and pure. It wasn’t necessary to disturb them or reveal them fully to him. The faces and emotions that created the Orbs in which they were encompassed was enough for Snape to grasp their meaning. The orbs fascinated her. That was the next step.

She had allowed him into her mind and he had taught her how to build stronger walls, to organize her thoughts with pinpointed precision. Her training was supposed to culminate with her acquiring the ability to create an imitation. - a trap. To deceive Voldemort, to give him the false orb in the process and hoping that in the aftermath she received a quick death. Her life was the only one she’d been prepared to lose.

"I know that a few lives are nothing compared to the thousands it could save. That’s logical, rational- it’s just that I, I, can’t.” The words betrayed her. It wasn't like her to let her emotions overcome her. Training required that she de-compartmentalize every aspect of herself in order to allow him in and help strengthen her shields. In the dizzying aftermath emotions flowed freely and unconfined. After lengthy sessions the thoughts she normally suppressed sprang free.

Tears filled her eyes as the realization of what she had agreed to do became devastatingly clear. When she had accepted Snape's proposition she knew that she'd be risking her life, Hermione did not expect to return from this mission. It was a fate she had accepted. The idea of feeding Voldemort a lie that would send him on a path to defeat was too tempting to pass up. Her life seemed a small price to pay when compared to the thousands that would be spread from battle.

Nobody could know about her mission, especially not Harry and Ron, they'd never allow it. It tore at Hermione to keep such a secret from them but it was too important that she follow through on it. Her life she could gamble, but her parents and loved ones, it was too much. 

She had accepted because she believed her mind was more than capable. That with Snape's help she could fine tune her talents and succeed. If her soul was broken and her mind shattered how could she continue, how could she trust herself?

Hermione swiped the tears away and faced him. She needed him to know.

‘’I won’t be able to hang on- if I know I put them in danger- if they d-die because of me. I, I, I’ll break before I can finish, I’m sure of it.” Her voice cracked and she let herself sink into the chair, tears falling freely now. 

Snape stepped forward, his hand gently on her shoulder. “There will come a time when you will have to choose one of them, Miss Granger. We both know which one it should be” His voice even but grave.

She gasped at him, shaking her head.

‘’When you make that choice-“ he pressed on. His eyes steady and resolute. “you must do so with conviction. Make peace with it. The Dark Lord will not break you right away. You will have _some_ time to decide - trust your mind when the time comes."

" _some_ time?" Her heart felt heavy. The question was silly, rhetorical. How could she not have seen this before. 

Snape watched her silently as her mind worked it over. 

Voldemort would evade her mind more than once and she would need to find a way to withstand it. That meant she would be a prisoner for an undetermined amount of time. As a naturally gifted Occlumens she knew that this was mentally possible, especially with Snape's training. Physically however, she was only human. How much of her magic would she be able to access in order to protect her body? She would be disarmed in the process of being captured, wand-less.

The Order rarely recovered those who fell prisoner to Voldemort. The few that made it back were never quite the same, deemed insane or too injured to ever rejoin the battle. They had gathered enough intel from the few survivors to know that Voldemort found a way to suppress the magic of those he didn't kill right away. A memory of Mollys broken body flashed before her, all the blood and exposed bones. Ron had crumpled at the site, an animalistic wail tearing through him. It had been months before Molly was able to walk again, even now she limped about in a hunched position, scarred beyond recognition.

“Physical pain can weaken the body but it can also be used to protect the mind.” Snape offered knowingly. "A skilled Legilimens like the Dark Lord will know this. An injured prisoner adept in Occlumency is a stronger prisoner, a threat. I can only offer limited training in that area. Physical and mental pain is to be expected, necessary. The practice of siphoning your physical pain will inevitably become useless. "

Useless if Voldemort left her unharmed physically, useless because she wouldn't be able to use magic once captured. A prisoner. A prisoner with only her mind for protection. For how long?

"Days, perhaps a week or more - that will depend on you, Miss Granger" Snape answered her unspoken question.

"You will enter this mission with only a snippet of its true intention. You will hide the details of it much like you do your secrets, so that only you can access them while Occlumenting. That is the purpose of your training. Strengthening not only your shields but your intuition - you must be able to trust your mind. Subtle hints will be placed along the way to your center to help guide you.” Pausing to circle back to where Hermione sat frozen Snape leaned towards, eyes level.

“Once you’ve made your choice, and the Dark Lord thinks he’s broken you, you must take the Orbs that remain, and scatter them amongst the shattered pieces. You’ll only have a moment while he’s distracted by your fragmented soul and the secret he thinks he’s discovered - the closest to your boundaries. He’ll probe those carefully” Snape grasped both her shoulders now.

“This. Is. The. Lie.” His words were heavy determination. “You will sacrifice a piece of your soul in order to trick the Dark Lord into believing he’s truly broken you. Allow him to believe you have betrayed yourself. Then and only then will you willingly expose the final piece. A trap.”

Hermione sat silently, her eyes had stopped leaking but her lips still trembled. His words echoed around her. A secret, a lie, a trap. Her eyes moved nervously around the room, avoiding his stare, thinking. Portrait Dumbledore had risen from its slumber and stepped closer, it’s face painted with worry.

“What if I fail Severus, what if I can't control my mind, what if You-Know-Who kills me before I finish?” Her voice sounded so small and foreign.

It was the one question she had avoided since the beginning. Her confidence and determination wouldn't allow it. Swatting away at the thought before allowing it to fully form. But her mind didn't work like that, she couldn't ignore such an obvious exception. Hermione was always prepared, for any outcome, always ready with a back up plan. In the case that she didn't succeed she needed to control how she failed.

“He won't kill you.” He said matter of factly.

Hermione was stunned by how convinced of this he seemed to be. Voldemort was a grotesque and unstable monster, how could anyone ever be sure of his actions. Voldemort killed and tortured for sport without reason or justification. What in the bloody hell made her an exception to his maniacal whims.

Snape saw the incredulous look on her face and sighed with frustration and discomfort. He slipped back into the chair at his desk, shifting uncomfortably before continuing.

“Even if you fail- which you won’t! A mind like yours in the hands of a skilled Legilimens is- ” Snape faltered. She watched as he carefully chose his next words. “Well Miss Granger, simply put it’s- it’s stimulating, incredibly so."

Hermione's eyes widened. She sputtered and lifted from the chair with a repulsed huff.

“Do you mean- he, you mean You-Know-Who will be a, a, aroused by the act of it” Merlin she was going to be sick.

Snape leaned back into the chair, squaring his shoulders. “Miss Granger, arousal is very- human, which the Dark Lord is not. He considers that particular act beneath him, a weakness.” He paused tensely. Hermione offered no relief and stared back with a lifted brow, pressing. Snape stood abruptly, frustration rolling through his shoulders. He leaned over the desk towards her.

“He will revel in flaying your mind over and over again, simply because it challenges him. Stimulates him. Even if he never gains anything of significance. Even if you were to fail, you would be his favorite toy, until he rendered you truly senseless. He will recognize your talents from the moment he begins. Once finished, assuming you haven’t died from his efforts, he’d pass you off to the highest ranking Death Eater to be bred in hopes of creating another- toy.” His words were laced with cruelty and darkness, hands spread widely across his desk.

Snape looked away from her turning to face the wall behind where the portrait of Dumbledore hung. It was empty.

Hermione slumped against the door, her stomach turning. She’d been edging closer to it with every word, ready to bolt but his final words had shocked her to her core.

She heard him rise and shuffle through his potion cabinet and then swiftly stalked over to her folded form.

“Take it” He snapped at her, pushing a small vial of calming draught into her shaking hands and then downing one himself.

They both took several deep breaths.

“Miss Granger, I- I apologize for the bluntness in my words but you must understand your position. If you continue- you must heed my warnings.”

His hands gripped her shoulders again with reassurance. “Your mind is unique in its design. Unlike any other I’ve encountered, you are exceptional. Trust. Your. Mind” She nodded. The calming potion began easing over her nerves. Her shields fell back into place, emotions tucked away. A familiar numbness spread through her.

Snape released her and stepped back allowing her to stand.

“Tomorrow we may begin creating the new Orb, take some Sleeping Draught. You will need all your energy.”

***

Bloody fucking elf, Hermione thought. Cursing the elf to hell.

Someone invested in her survival had sent that elf, had continued sending that elf to check on her. Hermione knew it couldn’t be anyone from the order. She’d figured that out from the first visit. If it had been sent by the order the elf would have tried to free her or at least pass along a message. No, this was not from their side. Someone knew where she was kept, regardless of how often she was moved about. Someone was making sure she was alive.

She dropped into a sitting position, deep in thought, every possibility running through her mind. Her mind was clearer than it had been since the first day she was captured. Focusing her mind and entering the trance she skimmed carefully past her shattered memories, falling deeper into her subconscious. Moving towards a place seemingly out of reach.

Hermione hadn’t dared delve this deeply since being captured. She didn’t trust her physical and mental state enough to be sure she could properly lock everything up again before being dragged away for another interrogation. Voldemort scattered her surface memories every time. Left them jumbled and out of order, intact memories mixed with the remains of the broken. Hermione slowly pieced it back together on the floor of her cell after each interrogation and organized it as best she could. It took hours and hours.

At the next interrogation he would have to rip apart and scatter the same surface memories in order to pick up where he left off. She could sense his intrigue and fury each time he entered her mind and found her layers rebuilt. With every new interrogation she felt his eagerness grow as he carelessly attacked her mind. Sometimes stopping mid probe to turn over her fundamental memories, tugging at a specific thought testing the boundaries of its reach and then ripping it out at its root, gone.

Parts of herself had started to slip away, memories broken and incomplete.

In the empty darkness of her cell Hermione had tried to make sense of it. She remembered her mother’s face but not her name. Hermione knew she went to a magical school, that she was a Gryffindor but couldn’t remember the castle itself, where it was located, or her classes. She recalled lifting a feather with her wand, levitating it, but the spell wouldn’t come to her.

With her newfound energy and clarity Hermione began the process of opening her mind, reaching deep into her consciousness into the most guarded parts of being. Sensing her own familiarity the boundaries gave way with only gentle probing, as it did a brilliant white light floated all around her senses. There was no darkness here, only warmth and light. Tight embraces and tickling laughter. Her mother’s loving smile. The sweet and musky smell of an old book, delicate pages between her fingers.

A deep sigh of relief escaped her as the memories flooded back. Some of her growing confusion eased slightly. The temptation to linger and fill in the blanks pulled at her heart but something stronger propelled her away urging her to keep moving.

Focus. She needed to ground herself with the intent of her mission.

Careful to only skim lightly without fully unraveling anything, Hermione was able to fully focus on pulling the memories that held Snape’s plan. A plan of deception and lies and pain. She had trained for this, for this very moment.

Filled with renewed determination Hermione began retracting, layering her memories back into place and burying them deeper than her sub-conscience. Further away than she could possibly reach without Occlumenting. Pausing momentarily before fully closing herself again she wondered if perhaps she should hide the incident with the elf as well.

Hermione lingered on the idea. She floated between the boundary and the surface of her mind.

It was possible Snape had sent the elf. She couldn’t be sure.

Voldemort never wasted time with the recent memories of her captivity. Even when she pushed them forward, offering her sufferings as a distraction, he swatted them away without a second thought. His focus was always on digging deeper into her past memories, ignoring the surface. It’s possible he would never know how severe her injuries had been or that the elf had saved her. Even if he was aware of it, he wouldn’t inspect the incident. If the elf was Voldemort’s doing, a possibility that hadn’t escaped her, then all that mattered was that she was still able to be interrogated without dying. Legilimency can only work on a living and mostly sane individual.

Some of her memories were fragmented but that was to be expected. Part of the plan.

If the elf continued to heal her she would never come close to dying from her injuries. Near death, the thought echoed again. Healing her altered the plan, Snape’s plan. It couldn’t be Snape, she decided.

  
Near death, the thought echoed once more.

The light around her conscience dimmed and flickered. Her heart began to pound furiously and panic threatened to overtake her. Hermione had been there for weeks, possibly months. Time was unclear in the cold empty darkness of her many cells. She could only ever guess at how many days had passed by her fading bruises, in the nearly total darkness even that wasn’t conclusive.

It was never supposed to take this long. It’s almost as if her mind was severed from her body, unable to deliver the trigger into her consciousness that they had counted on. Instead her mind reinforced itself, over and over. Disassociating from her body.

The elf threatened the plan - the realization jolted her. It was going to keep coming back, she was sure of it.

Light flickered more rapidly now all round her.

Hermione had to do something to bring herself back to the state she’d been in before the elf saved her. She recalled the sudden awareness of her physical self as her body broke. Hermione had almost died just hours ago. Now she was more alive than ever. Light flickered, insistent, pulling her back.

Hermione focused.

The plan had to change she decided ignoring the tug of fear and panic that lingered somewhere close by. Change the plan, she thought again.

The light brightened subtly.

It didn’t have to be drastic, just enough to speed up the breaking of her physical self - her body, to get back on track.

The light around her flickered less insistent. Warmth ebbed and flowed through her senses.

She breathed deeply. Focused.

  
The warmth surrounded her and she let it guide her deeper to the center. Closer to the light source. She could see four clustered orbs shimmering with life, memories wrapped and layered within them. They swayed gently in a circle, separate from one another but connected somehow. They floated gently around the brilliant white light of her soul - of everything she was. Her deepest secrets.

_"There will come a time when you will have to sacrifice one of them-“_

Hermione slipped closer, shedding her senses, her emotions and feelings. The warmth retracted slightly. Light flickered more rapidly as she reached toward it. Somewhere in the distance she heard a soft cry - a woman. She ignored it. Focused, her intention clear.

Two orbs broke from the rest and glided towards her, just out of reach. Hermione had to make a choice.

A tugging sensation began to form. Focus. She sent a ripple of intent outwardly. The light behind the orbs radiated back and then one orb glided to her definitively. She held it separate from the rest and brought it closer to the boundary leaving there, suspended. As she did her senses began to reignite, emotions bubbling around her.

A feeling of despair began to creep in. The warmth eased closer enveloping her, gentle and consoling.

She looked at the Orbs with longing. A secret, a lie, a trap - a sacrifice.

Quickly before she could change her mind she closed the boundary behind her.

As she floated back to the surface of her mind a sense of defeat overwhelmed her. To distract herself Hermione began piecing the scattered remnants of her broken memories. The ones that Voldemort had to push thru over and over again. The ones he’d shredded to almost nothing. She strung them together delicately, ignoring the questions they prompted, piece by piece. When her mind was organized to her satisfaction she retreated from it altogether.

Stepping out of the trance Hermione was hit by overwhelming exhaustion. Snape usually had a revitalizing potion when she had to delve that deeply into her mind. It was exhausting and debilitating.

It didn’t matter if she slept now. She didn’t have duties or responsibilities. She didn’t have books to read and potions to organize. Hermione curled herself against the back wall of her cell and allowed herself to drift off. The next time that monster invaded her mind would hopefully be the last. Hopefully.

For the next three days the elf appeared inside her cell. At first it peered at her curiously, assessing her before disappearing again. Hermione knew that the elf would never betray whoever its master was. Asking it questions was pointless so she didn’t bother. It would come assess her, disappear and then return to ask its questions.

“Is the mudblood hurt?”

“is the mudblood hungry?”

Hermione never answered.

On the third day after having saved her the elf cracked into the cell and stared her up and down. It snapped its fingers and a banana appeared in its other hand. Hermione looked at it offensively but with barely concealed hunger.

The elf held the banana firmly and asked its question.

“Is the mudblood hurt?”

Hermione said nothing and looked away past its wrinkled bony shoulders, past the gate.

“Is the mudblood hungry?”

Hermiones scoffed but didn’t look at the elf again. From her peripheral vision Hermione saw the elf stomp in frustration, a sudden motion made her fully turn to face the elf once again and as she did the banana hit her square in the face, bouncing off her nose.

_CRACK!_

Hermiones snatched the banana that landed at her feet. She eyed it suspiciously before peeling the top ever so slightly. She touched her tongue to it tentatively and found no foreign taste or magical presence. After staring at it for more than an hour her stomach gave a jolting growl and Hermione gave in. She devoured the banana, skin and all.

After a few minutes she felt loads better. Still she tried not to focus on the elf, her intuition nagged at her to ignore the situation and not think on it, she trusted herself and listened. Instead she focused on the next interrogation. It was key that she be near death. This was key. It repeated in her mind and she trusted the idea without questioning why.

Focus on how.

It seemed ridiculous that her current biggest obstacle was not being near death. Trapped in a cell surrounded by protective enchantments that prevented her from hurting herself.

The idea of provoking Voldemort at her next interrogation seemed like the easiest answer but she swatted it away. He would destroy her mind and this could affect her ability to control what he found. She focused again and listened to her subconscious without fully stepping into a trance.

Near death, the thought echoed around her.

Hermione thought back on her previous injuries. The majority had occurred during her first days after being captured. She’d violently tried to fight her way out of her cell repeatedly and had been punished carelessly.

Most of her attempts had been futile despite all the force and creativity she put into it. Hermione's magic was being suppressed, she suspected it had something to do with the rags she’d been dressed in. Her magic had exploded all around when she’d initially been disarmed, still able to fight. It wasn’t until she’d been stunned unconscious and awakened already wearing the rags that she realized her magic was gone.

House elves wore rags as a mark of their servitude. It tied them to their masters and could only be freed when given clothing. She deduced that the magical hold was flimsy, after all both Dobby and Kreacher had found loopholes to defy their masters. It also didn’t seem to be able to force a confession out of her otherwise Voldemort would have surely tried by now. Without fully understanding this modified version of the rags she could only assume the basics of it. Hermione was tied to her master - Voldemort. She could not defy him or hurt him physically. She had hurt the Death Eaters though, they were not her masters and she had not been instructed to refrain from lashing out at them. Hermione wasn't sure if this was an oversight or a flaw in the design of these modified rags.

It had been weeks since she'd fought back. They wouldn't expect it. Hermione went back forth until she settled on a course of action, she didn't have much of a choice.

Hermione would provoke the Death Eaters again.

She spent her time grounding her body in a form of meditation. Clearing her mind and energizing her body rather than wearing herself out with Occlumency or physical training. Not willing to risk being too exhausted to attack. Every bit of her physical strength would be needed in order to incite the Death Eaters with enough rage that they’d react with reckless violence.

Hermione could only guess that the same Death Eater who’d kicked her into this cell would most likely be the same to retrieve her. He’d already shown signs of recklessness and didn’t seem to worry about further injuring her person three days ago when she could hardly stand. He was her best bet at earning a brutal beating.

What she couldn’t be sure of was the purpose of the next Death Eaters visit. He could apparate her into another cell or return her to Voldemort, Hermione hoped for the latter. She was sure the elf would heal her again if she returned injured. Never in her life did she think she’d find herself cursing an elf and rejecting its help.

She focused on all the details, all the possible outcomes. Trying her best to recall the path in and out of the cell. The number of heavy footsteps the death eaters boots made as he left. Eighteen steps. Eighteen steps to the door, 6 steps up to what she imagined was another door.

The Death Eater expected her to be starved and unable to move on her own. She carefully laid her body on the floor in a crumpled position. Her breaths steady and even. A quick thrashing, a burst of chaos and then promptly delivered to Voldemort was the straightest path to getting Snape's plan back on track. She wouldn’t fail, she couldn’t. A nagging feeling in the back of her mind told her she would only have this one shot.


	3. THREE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was surprisingly easier to write. Phew! Here goes nothing.

~~~

Hermione didn’t have to wait long, it had been three days after all, she lay sprawled doing her best impression of a starved and injured prisoner when the sound of heavy boots on stone steps thundered through the dungeons. Her heart pounds furiously, she breathes deep, trying her best to ignore the urge to move into a protective position and instead focuses on the nearing footsteps.

“Yous dead yet, Mudblood?” The Death Eater voice echoes as he unlocks her cell. Hermione lays still, breathing with ragged exaggeration. The Death Eater takes a heavy boot and nudges her forcefully, she lets her body roll onto its side quietly before letting out a weak moan. “Blimey!” He exclaims with genuine panic, bordering on concern. Hermione could only imagine the punishment he’d be served if she’d truly been dead.

“Nearly stunned yous, bloody witch! Can’t have yous dying on me watch now can we!” He reaches towards her grasping the tattered rags by the collar. “Come on now, ups with ya.” He pulls her up gruffly and Hermione stands weakly, hunched as she had before, careful to wobble unsteadily on her feet.

“Yous stink something foul!” He breathes at her, his face close, too close. “Maybe the Dark Lord will let me bathe yous myself, what you think of that, Mudblood.” He caresses her cheek with his free hand, pushing the matted curls out of her face. Hermione meets his greedy stare.

“I would rather bathe in Fiendfyre” she spats at him. The Death Eater's face twists with fury, his dark eyes squinting furiously at her from beneath his mask. Hermione takes the chance to knee him in the groin with all her might. He crumples instantly, wheezing pathetically. Hermione hesitates momentarily, giving him a chance to stand, counting the seconds. Either she had underestimated her strength or this Death Eater was not up to snuff.

“Oh bloody hell” she sighs out loud and bolts out of the cell. Running towards the stairs she wonders if perhaps she should allow the Death Eater to catch up to her and momentarily slows her pace. No footsteps follow her, only distant groans of pain. Hermione reaches the top of the stairs without a sign of the Death Eater below. How hard had she hit him?

This was not going according to plan already. Staring at the gated door for a split second, she closes her eyes and hopes it isn’t locked before pulling it open. It’s not. Hermione bursts through and finds herself in a seemingly endless corridor covered with a horrendous peeling wallpaper, the pattern faded beyond recognition, scattered burn marks with a splattering of newly dried blood. She looks around frantically. No one in sight. “Fuck” she swears aloud, quickly moving through the corridor feeling the walls for a door, an enchantment is concealing the exits, she can sense the presence of dark magic.

“GET BACK HERE, MUDBLOOD” a voice booms behind her. The Death Eater is at the dungeon door now. Oh good he’s up, she thinks to herself shooting him a look of annoyance. She can’t just bloody well run back to the bastard now! That would certainly seem suspicious. Moving forward she sees a subtle shimmer on the far left and rushes towards it. Reaching it just as the Death Eater nears, she pushes through a heavy wooden door and comes face to face with a half dozen unmasked Death Eaters, Yaxley among them.

Too stunned to react the Death Eaters merely stare at her with wide eyes. Hermione seizes the moment, snatching the nearest solid thing — a chair and swiftly pummels a wide stocky Death Eater in the back of the head. The chair makes a splendid _SNAP!_ Breaking into several pieces and the burly Death Eater falls forward with a loud thump, face upturned, Crabbe, Sr. In a flurry the Death Eaters are on her. “GET HER!” One of them yells out, she doesn’t recognize the face. “DON’T STUN THE BITCH, SHE’S MINE ” Yaxley shouts pushing through the chaos.

Hermione swings the half of the chair that remains in her grip, swinging wildly with the raw split end of it in attempts to stab at the closest Death Eater. Suddenly a warm hand encircles her left ankle. Crabbe, Sr. has hold of her, his large form still prone, his grasp firm but seemingly too dizzy to do more. Jerking her foot in futile attempts Hermione loses her balance, unable to shake his pudgy grasp. Yaxley reaches for her just as another Death Eater grabs her by the throat with such violence that her body is sent flying backwards taking the Death Eater with her, impaling him with the sharp end of the chair. They both land with screams of pain, the Death Eaters face contorts above hers, spitting out blood as he chokes.

“Whats going on here!” Shrieks an all too familiar voice, Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione gasps repeatedly, unable to move or breath. Something is piercing through her stomach, it pulses and burns hotly, tearing through her. The Death Eater sputters silently above her, his blood spraying onto her face, his weight keeping her from being able to twist away. Yaxley grips the Death Eaters head, pulling him off. More Death Eaters burst into the room now, including the one that had been sent to retrieve her, his shaky hands covering his crotch protectively.

Yaxley turns to her, crouches down and yanks her up by her hair. Hermione screams in agony, the movement causing whatever is piercing through her side to impale itself further, she clutches at her middle. A warm liquid trickles down her fingers, blood. Unable to look down with Yaxleys fingers entwined in her hair, she can’t tell how badly she’s hurt. The pain is blinding, her breaths are ragged, truly this time. He points his wand at her middle and begins muttering a healing charm- “STOP!” Bellatrix bellows, Yaxley stills.

“Leave her like this! I want the Dark Lord to see for _himself_ just how the Mudblood thanks us for our hospitality!” Bellatrix grins viciously at her. Hermione feels faint but strangely triumphant. Bellatrix jerks her away from Yaxley, she screams with pain and is quickly silenced with a flick of a wand.

Blood, sweat and tears mingle in her mouth, creating a salty metallic taste, it drips down her neck. Bellatrix pulls her out of the room and proceeds to drag her up several flights of stairs. The pain is excruciating, she half wishes she’d just pass out along the way. Unable to stop herself Hermione's mouth contorts and widens with the effort to scream but no sounds come forth. A splintered wooden piece from the chair is embedded into her side, entering from the back and poking through her navel, blood soaks her tattered rags and drips down her bare legs. Hermione is bleeding out, she’s dying.

“Ohhh we're gonna have some fun nowww, wait till he sees you!” Bellatrix cackles at her manically in a twisted singsong voice.

Two solid black marble doors emerge before them and part as they near. Bellatrix drags her to the center of a large dark room, cold and void of any furniture. Dark magic looms in every corner, pushing down on her senses, the room is heavy with it. Voldemort's corpse-like form sits regally upon an overbearing throne made of skulls, human and beast alike, Nagini wrapped around him as usual. Hermione feels herself be dropped suddenly onto the cold marble floor, slipping pathetically on her own blood.

“What is this!” Voldemort commands. He remains seated, one hand on his temple, rubbing his scaly head with annoyance and something else. Hermione dares to look directly at him for a moment. Something is wrong about him today, he seems more than annoyed, stressed and distracted.

“The mudblood tried to escape and got herself in a bit of a predicament” Bellatrix explains, her confidence waning as she stares up at him with a pitiful pout. Taking the pointed end of her boot Bellatrix prods at the stake running through Hermione's stomach. A silent scream courses through her at the sudden pain, her eardrums feel like they're going to burst, her throat raw. She writhes momentarily seeking relief, unable to find it she lets herself drop fully. Laying her heavy head on the cold marble floor.

“Bring her to me” Voldemort calmly orders. Bellatrix grabs a limp arm and pulls her towards him. Hermione squeezes her eyes shut from the sheer pain of it but has no energy left to scream anymore. Bellatrix grips her head, nearly crushing her skull, bringing her face to face with Voldemort once more. Red slitted eyes come into view and a new pain tears through her.

“Legillimens!”

Voldemort is in her mind slicing through her surface, ignoring her attempted escape, rushing towards the barrier as usual. Panic and fear overwhelm her, pain of every kind overrun her senses. Voldemort pushes through it all, reveling in her misery, she senses his curiousness at her rebuilt walls. The awareness of his peaked curiosity always stands out to her, its akin to something like glee, it lasts only a moment and then he continues his attack. With every new interrogation he improves this process, tearing down her surface layers, eradicating memories in his path. Always pushing forwards into her past, into an unreachable place.

I’m dying. The thought overwhelms Hermione, she feels herself sag in Bellatrix arms, her awareness weakens. Voldemort pauses as her consciousness flitters between herself and her body, connecting and disconnecting. She can feel him lingering at her thought. I’m dying, she repeats. He sends a ripple of intent— a promise. She doesn’t have to die. The idea is alluring, it beckons. A part of her wants to catch the ripple and follow it back. Something deeper urges her not to, she pulls away from it, running. Propelling herself away but finding she has nowhere to run. He is all around her, crowding and menacing, another ripple passes over her. I’m dying, the words repeat. More than a thought, it's a feeling, present and beyond herself, her body. Hermione falters as the second ripple begins to recede, it’s temptation too great, she reaches out towards it. Accepting.

The Barrier dissolves the instant she does and Voldemort lunges forward, a golden light floats forward, a small orb. Darkness spreads all around her and inches towards the golden orb, Unable to stop him she slows, light flickers all around them, a warmth spreads through her enveloping her. Hermione sends a weak ripple towards the orb. One becomes three and they glide towards her, away from him. Voldemort’s grounds himself, rooting his intent, darkness spreads around towards the golden orbs, his turbid web crawling all around them, closing in. I'm dying, she thinks again. Pain sears through her and she feels her body give way.

The orb that had been closest to the barrier dances before her. I have to let it go, Hermione realizes. Light flickers dangerously. The prickly web swarms all around her threateningly. She feels a ripple from a different direction, away from Voldemort, somewhere unknown. The second Orb glows brighter. Hermione listens, all emotion falling away, using the last of her strength she releases the second orb instead.

As soon as she lets go Voldemort's web consumes the orb, flooding it with an inky darkness. A strangled sob whispers in the darkness— a woman.Hermione floats away from the sound, ignoring it, instead reaching for the rapidly flickering light. Voldemort rejoices as darkness tears at the orb from the inside out, cracking it open. Memories spill all around her, spinning with ferocity, a tornado of moments.

The faces of her parents flash before her, loving and kind. She watches herself stand before them, wand in hand, taking their memories of her. Watches as her name disappears from every thought, her face vanishes from every photograph. Then she sees the new identities she created, the names Wendel and Monica Wilkins typed across an Australian identification card.

Her body shakes violently somewhere in the distance and its effect vibrates into her awareness. The light at her center flickers in unison and splinters, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. Hermione feels Voldemort’s triumph at the damage, his presence radiates with it. He has her now and he wants more. Let me die, she pleads. I want to die. A nagging sensation jerks her away as Voldemort lunges at another Orb and something tells Hermione to let him.

It too cracks and spills memories, this time of Harry. A new flurry of faces surrounded them. Voldemort flicks through them hungrily. A vital mission. A wand. Instructions for a potion with impossible ingredients Dumbledore's face. A children’s book.

In that moment Hermione becomes aware of the remaining Orb closest to her. Behind it another golden globe dances gently at her center. Intuition pulls her towards the farthest orb, she passes the original orb with a promise to come back. She reaches the furthest globe quickly, it's golden barrier dissolves with familiarity, memories drip rapidly, mixing with the rest, joining the whiplash all around her. Using the last of her energy Hermione pushes the memories together and then scatters them upwards, sending them raining all around them, chaos. Hermione turns and heads for the last Orb struggling to float towards it. The sudden shift catches Voldemort attention as he probes a particular memory with an image of a wand. He stills, turning to her center, to her light. He sees the remaining orb and slices through the swirling memories to get to it. Hermione is closer but Voldemort is much stronger and he reaches it first. His darkness swallows it whole, infecting it and cracking it open with ease.

The memories that spill are hazy, different, unclear. A feeling of dread overwhelms Hermione, the light at her centered flashes, seizing in unison with her pounding heart. His face flashes before her, white hair, eyes like a storm, a permanent sneer. Draco.

One by one he brings them forth, unraveling them.

_Mudblood_ written in blood on the walls of Hogwarts. His face is cruel as he points to her “ _you’ll be next mudbloods!_ ”

Hee arrogantly stalks towards Buckbeak, provoking him. Her panicked voice urges Hagrid to take him to the infirmary.

He’s laughing in a corner with Crabbe and Goyle waiting for Buckbeak to be slaughtered. Hermione furious with shame and disappointment swings and punches him square in the face, later she cries herself to sleep.

Then he’s dancing around her at the Yule Ball holding Pansy Parkinson she stares at them with thinly veiled jealousy. Victor gives her a knowing look and she blushes with embarrassment. Hermione lays in bed that night, thinking of him in his dress robes, her hands skim down her belly and under her damp knickers, rubbing herself into a frenzy. Turning over into her pillow, face hot with shame as pleasure washes over her.

The light at her center expands impossibly, blinding her, all awareness falls away. A piercing scream and the light explodes. And then emptiness.

***

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something” Hermione’s voice is strong and confident, just as she’d practiced the night before, and the night before that, trying to work up the courage to have this conversation. Rolling her shoulders back and standing straight with determination she faces Snape full on.

“Yes, Miss Granger” He says lazily, shuffling through the clutter at his desk. He doesn’t make eye contact and it irritates her. The last thing they need is more eye contact after hours and hours of Occlumency training but Hermione needs his full attention.

The silence drags on and Hermione feels her confidence drop ever so slightly.

“Well?” A familiar tone of impatience.

“Right, yes, it’s something you said at the beginning—“

“About the Chinese Fireballs?” His eyes meet hers now.

“No, I mean early on in our training, after I agreed to — everything.”

He stops organizing his scrolls, setting them aside with purposeful thud and leans back into his chair with exasperation. Hermione cringes inwardly, knowing Snape hates revisiting that particular subject. She assumes it’s because he somehow believes she will back out at any moment.

“Out with it, Miss Granger!”

“It’s just that I’ve been thinking, when you said _we both know which one it should be —_ I knew you meant _him”_ she winces at her inability to speak his name. Her face feels hot and she’s positive her cheeks are reaching a shade of tomato red.

_“_ Draco” Snape offers, his annoyance rounding out and emphasizing the last syllable. It’s the first time he’s mentioned by name, the acknowledgement falls heavily between them.

“I just wonder if it will work?” Her voice is smaller than she wants it to sound and she inwardly scolds herself. His eyes narrow at the indirect jab to his intellect. Closing her eyes she forces herself to continue. “ What I mean is— it was just a silly school girl crush” she makes a disregarding gesture with her hand and shifts awkwardly in the chair across from him as she finishes. “Could it truly be enough”

“Miss Granger, this is perhaps your greatest downfall. While you may be the _brightest witch of our age_ , you certainly are daft when it comes to matters of the heart”

“ I beg your par—“ she stands indignantly as he cuts her off.

“ Don’t.” He says pointedly, standing now as well, arms crossed behind his back, eyes boring into hers. “Sit. Down.”

Hermione slams down into the chair with a huff.

“ A _silly school girl crush”_ he repeats mockingly but doesn’t give her a chance to speak again. “ Yet, it sits at your very core, next to the fate of your own parents and your best friends secrets— secrets that could bring about the downfall of the world as we know” his pours his disgust into her with every word and she sinks further into the chair.

“I wasn’t denying it, I merely wondered if it would suffice” She can feel her emotions rising, heart racing.

Snape sighs with frustration, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling.

“Miss Granger, whether you acknowledge whatever it is that you feel for the Malfoy boy, is irrelevant. What’s important is that it’s there, seemingly just as precious as the others, possibly more so” His face changes suddenly, a pensive look replaces his previous scowl.

Hermione scoffs at the idea of _him_ being more precious to her than her parents or the secret to Voldemort's defeat. She eyes Snape as he thinks it over, deep in thought, like he hadn’t considered this before now.

“As a natural Occlumens it’s very possible he’s the very reason you developed the skill so well. Hiding him away deep in the races of your mind as a means of protection. It’s shaped so much of you, clearly. Lying to yourself and your friends—

Hermione opens her mouth to deny it but he waves his hand, silencing her. Wanting to finish his thoughts out loud.

“I would guess he was your first secret, the first Orb. Made unknowingly but successfully. It will work.” He finishes with assurance.

Hermione opens her mouth and closes it a few times before speaking again. Unsure of herself or what to say. She senses Snape's eyes, his annoyance returning with each breath.

“Regardless of all this, it’s not as if you want to use any of the others. More the better that it be Draco”

Angers bubbles up inside her, her hands gripping the leather chair as she rises suddenly.

“WHAT DOES IT MATTER? YOU-KNOW-WHO WILL HURT HIM BECAUSE OF ME, HE COULD KI—KILL HIM FOR IT.” She falters momentarily, realizing she’s screaming. She takes a deep breath and focuses on her shields.

“Draco is a Death Eater.” He says casually unwilling to match her rage. Hermione shoots him a scowl as he states the obvious. She’s bloody aware of this! Draco took the mark 6th year, he killed Dumbledore, he’s probably killed countless others. She knows this! Even so she can’t bring herself to accept the idea that her _silly school girl crush_ will be the reason for his death _._

“You can set the Dark Lord on a path to defeat and you can rid the world of one more Death Eater, all in a single moment.” His voice is cold, dripping with venom. Hermione says nothing, her focus fully on controlling the rage coursing through her veins, using Occlumency to reign in her emotions.

“Do you think the Malfoy boy would hesitate to slaughter any one of your friends or your parents given the chance, Miss Granger. Do you truly believe he would spare them or you?”

A numbness settles over her, she doesn't reply. Snape eyes her curiously.

“Good” he says, acknowledging the control she’s placed over her emotions. Hermione turns and leaves the room without a word. She waits until she’s alone that night before allowing the tears to form and fall. She doesn’t question why. She knows what she must do.

***

Voldemort retreats, his red eyes come into view, the cold dark room unfolds around him. Hermione lands at his feet with a soft gasp. Nagini slithers down to her with anticipation.

“My my, mudblood, you surprise me” Voldemort tuts “ Few rarely do” he lifts a pale scaly hand to his temple once more, deep in thought. Several eternities pass in silence as he mulls it all over. An involuntary shiver escapes Hermione, she’s still dying, slowly. Finally he turns to Bellatrix with a cold stare. “Bring me Draco.”


	4. FOUR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize I posted chapter 3 twice. It seems I will continue to make these fun little mistake. Yikes! 
> 
> P.S. I'm well into chapter 7 but need to find the time to stop and edit >.<

~~~

Hermione wasn’t inside her body, she watched herself from above, a shadow. Her physical body lay crumpled in a heap at the foot of a sinister throne. A crimson stain had unfurled across her midsection, darkening into a puddle that slowly spread away from her form. Her blood was barely discernible against the black marble. 

Two men entered the room, the soles of their leather shoes echoing loudly as they neared. They were both tall and slender, one slightly broader than the other, older. Neither wore a mask. But perhaps the most noticeable thing about them was the striking shade of platinum blonde hair they both shared. The slightly broader of the two had a curtain of silky fine hair that fell well past his shoulders. He turned briefly in her direction shooting her an icy look of pure disgust. 

The other male wore his hair slicked back, a few pale golden locks spilling forward on his luminescent face. A face that was devoid of any expression, he looked straight ahead, towards his master.

“I wasn’t aware Draco needed parental supervision, Lucius” Voldemort said sitting once again, his voice laced with disdain

“My lord, we happened to arrive together, before— the incident.” Lucius answered giving her another repugnant look. 

“Very well, I do have use for you Lucius. I require you to go to Australia, bring me Wendell and Monica Wilkins, muggles” his voice slithered around the last word. 

“Right away, my lord,” Lucius answered with a deep bow but didn’t turn to leave. 

“Leave us, Lucius!” Voldemort ordered, his impatience growing, a grey scaly hand at his temple. 

Lucius eyed Draco warily before turning and leaving the room quickly. 

Seconds passed, the sound of leather soles faded away and silence filled the cold dark room. 

“Draco, it has come to my attention that you know this mudblood personally” Voldemort said to both Bellatrixs and Draco's surprise, both of their brows lifting at his implication. Bellatrix's wide eyes flicked back and forth between the two anxiously. 

“We were at school together, I’ve no connection to her beyond my days at Hogwarts, my lord” Draco explained, perspiration forming on his brow, shoulders tense. His eyes were cold steel, face expressionless focused solely on Voldemort. 

“The mudblood regards you highly Draco, thinks herself to be in love with you” He said with a dreadful smile, standing to walk around Draco, eyeing him with suspicion and menace. Bellatrix burst into maniacal laughter at his words and placed her boot on Hermione's face. 

“How dare you—“ her laughter ceased abruptly, a long slender knife appeared in her hand and she crouched down grabbing Hermione's arm, her fingers digging deep “you ambitious little bitch, I heard you were a little tramp, Potters cock not enough for you eh?” Bellatrix hovered over her body now, knife moving furiously over her arm. 

A sudden growl broke her concentration, booming all around them and Voldemort fell to his knees. Bellatrix scurried over to him in a panic. Draco remained frozen, his eyes quickly scanning Hermione unmoving form before stepping towards Voldemort. 

“My lord, my lord, all you alright” Bellatrix fussed around Voldemort as he regained his composure. He shoved her off and she stumbled back with a petulant look, tears welling in her panicked eyes. He stood again, both hands on his head and began to pace. 

“How can I help my lord” Draco asked with a calm, even tone. Bellatrix shot him a furious look, warning in her eyes. 

“I must go— Nagini” Voldemort called out and the snake slithered towards him. Bellatrix walked behind him cautiously inspecting him thoroughly without touching him again. He paced around her. 

“Draco, take this—“ Voldemort paused, his voice strained. He held his wand to his temple and pulled a thin silvery thread, Bellatrix gasped and waved a hand at Draco, urging him forward. Draco produced a vial out of thin air and approached immediately. The silvery thread shimmered as it floated away from Voldemort’s head and into the vial, Draco's hand shook as he sealed it. “Speak to no one of this, report only to me” 

“Yes, my lord— what abou—“

“Take the mudblood with you” he answered knowingly. “She will be of assistance with your mission. I care not what you do with her, just keep her sane. If she interferes, kill her.” Without another word Voldemort took Bellatrix's hand and disapparated along with Nagini. 

Draco dropped to his knees before Hermione, wand in hand, he looked about frantically. They were alone. He squeezed his eyes shut, his face stretched painfully as he raised his wand to her. 

Hermione made a small noise, a weak gurgling sound. 

Draco stilled, his eyes shot open. 

“RUX!” Draco bellowed into the darkness. A stubby elderly elf appeared with a sudden CRACK!

“Can you get her out of here without hurting her?” His voice shaking, eyes wide with terror. 

“Rux, thinks he can, yes” The elf squeaked twisting its wrinkly fingers nervously. “Where should Rux take the mudblood?” 

“Malfoy Manor” Draco commanded. 

The elfs eyes widened with disbelief he looked like he might argue but instead stepped closer to Hermione, grabbing her bleeding arm just above where Bellatrix had carved the word whore next to mudblood. With a snap of its fingers the elf and Hermione vanished leaving behind a haggard looking Draco. 

~~~

A dark fog descended on Hermione, shifting eerily around her as she floated aimlessly, it ebbed and flowed parting subtly and revealing the slightest hints of light somewhere far beyond its depths. The light beckoned her and she followed it desperately through a shadowy mist, it felt like she’d been roaming blindly for an eternity. 

There were moments when the fog was too dense and she’d almost think she had imagined a light, until it cleared again just enough and a small glow peaked through the shadows. Hermione propelled herself towards it, faster and faster. The fog eased as more light shone through. Closing in on the source she felt a ripple emanating from it, it’s waves reached her, something familiar, tugging her nearer. 

It’s familiarity brought forth her awareness, she knew this light. The realization pushed out any remaining fog, though the darkness remained, at its center the light sparked weakly. Hermione reached it finally, she hovered before it, grief overwhelmed her at the sight. 

The light was broken, split in half yet still alive, but only just. It flickered helplessly and she reached for it instinctively. She held it close, wrapped herself around it and tried to bring the two pieces together as delicately as possibly. Small sparks fizzled between the pieces, touching and forming a weak connection. A luminous webbing, veiny and fragile. The light ceased its flickering and glowed steadily with a low hum. Afraid of damaging it further Hermione carefully stepped away, allowing it to remain suspended on its own. 

She peered into the darkness in every direction, expecting more fog to appear, instead she found lifeless shadows littered all around, suspended mid air - frozen. Her memories. There was no life in them. No moving faces, no sounds or emotions. 

The light at the centered glowed steadily, brightening subtly, a weak ripple emanating from it. It’s warmth spread around her and the suspended memories absorbed it slowly. Images began to form, familiar faces, sounds and smells. They begin to swirl lazily around the light at her center. 

I know this. This is me, she thought. This is my life. 

She floated to the memories as they ignited and danced with new life. Sounds and smells surrounded the memories but they were fuzzy, unclear. She listened to every thought, every sound, every conversation. Separating what she recognized as her own voice from the rest. Slowly, piece by piece, she organized the memories. It was endless, tedious, necessary. 

~~~

Hermione woke with a start, emotions flooded, heart pounding in her ears. She grabbed at her stomach instinctively, sweat beading down her forehead. Her fingers gripped a plushy material that encased her midsection, a blanket. 

She squinted her eyes in the darkness as a bed came into view. A large four poster mahogany bed with rich creamy linens. Hermione was in a bed, the biggest most comfortable one she’d ever been in. Pulling at the layers that enveloped her she tried to feel her stomach again. No pain. A general numbness seemed to be plaguing her all the way from her ribs down to her toes. 

It was night and she could scarcely see the outline of her body in the moonlight. The moon light, she thought again looking out towards an open window, it looked like it was maybe 20 feet away. Shoving the covers away she went to swing her legs when a voice stopped her cold. 

“Don’t”

Hermione hyperventilated involuntarily. Her arm shot out, reaching blindly in the near darkness. There was a small nightstand next to the bed and what felt like the base of a lamp, she gripped it ready to pull it loose and swing. 

“You’ll only hurt yourself, Granger” the voice spoke to her, calm and steady. A voice she thought she recognized. 

“Whe, where are y—you?” She spoke into the darkness. Her face facing the window ready to bolt, her eyes searching wildly in every direction. 

“I’m going to turn on the light— stay calm, you’re still healing” his voice was calm, patient. HE she thought again, the voice was male. 

She waited. Nothing happened. Her heart beat faster and her breathing came harsher with every pulse. 

“Do you promise to stay calm?” His voice breaking the silence once more. 

She didn’t answer. She inhaled deeply, steadying herself, willing herself to relax. She exhaled slowly, letting out a more even but still shaky breath. 

“Yes.” Hermione finally whispered back, her shoulders trembled, struggling to hold her half sitting position. 

A quick swishing sound and then a warm light burst to life inside of a fireplace to her left, illuminating the room. Her eyes took in her opulent surroundings. Heavy mahogany furnishings with intricate carvings, creamy white lace with gold detailing, the ceiling went on forever, the carpets plush and immaculate. 

Hermione turned back to the window once more and found a tall, trim figure leaning against it. He wore dark casual clothing, a charcoal grey jumper, black slacks, black leather shoes. His hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks as his eyes carefully roamed over her. A breeze passed through the window and loosened several strands of his platinum blonde hair, they fell forward framing his face. 

He was beautiful, she thought. Staring at him, unable to tear her gaze away. His eyes were a startling shade of silver, hard and clear. His features sharp and defined, hard with pale white skin almost luminescent. His full curved lips twitched slightly— the beginning of a smile perhaps, she wondered. 

He stared at her intensely, hands buried in his pockets, quiet. 

Hermione felt a pulling sensation somewhere in the back of her mind, her head began to throb. She winced momentarily and when she opened her eyes again he was next to her, staring down at her, concern growing in his eyes. She jumped back with a shriek. His closeness was terrifying but as he leaned down, reaching for her with worry in his eyes a thought formed clearly in her mind. 

“I know you” she whispered, staring up at him with confusion. His fingers stilled mid air. Her eyes narrowed, thinking, her mind working. 

The headache intensified, threatening to burst, Hermione grabbed her skull with both hands and screamed with pain. A bright light exploded behind her eyes. Amidst the pain she felt a thick tasteless liquid trickle down her lips and the pain subsided, sleep overcame her. 

It happened just like that a few more times. It wasn’t until her head was threatening to burst and the dreamless sleep potion was poured down her throat that some form of clarity returned. Always too late, sleep overpowering any sense of awareness. 

“I know you. I’ll come back for you, I promise— I promise.” Hermione would mumble incoherently. Eventually the man stopped appearing altogether. His warm smooth fingers were replaced by bony wrinkled ones, roughly shoving the potion down her throat. 

“Don’t heal me, don’t, you can’t help me, please stop” she would whimper but the elderly elf ignored her every time. 

One morning she woke with a sudden jerk. Her arms flailed trying to catch herself from falling only to realize she was in a bed, the softest most incredible bed. She sighed deeply with momentary relief and then was overcome with panic, the hyperventilating starting the way it always did. 

“Miss Granger, look at me.” A feminine voice commanded, a woman rose from a chair, her thin frame coming into focus as she neared, sitting at the edge of the bed and taking Hermione's hand. A gentle expression in her eyes. Her stunning face, leaned closer, clear blue eyes came into view. Hermione froze. 

Miss Granger, you are safe now. Breathe dear. Breathe in slow, counter to three, can you do that for me?

The voice was not her own yet she heard it in her mind, stern but friendly, soothing and soft. It whispered gently. A wave of intent passed over her, she was safe. This woman meant no harm. Hermione inhaled deeply and counted. 

One, two, three and released. 

Miss Granger, do you know who you are?

Memories flooded, emotions, voices, thoughts, sounds. They whipped around her at a dizzying speed. 

I am Hermione Granger, she managed to pull the thought out of the chaos but the rest followed with desperation. She tried to hold on to the thought separating it from everything else. 

I am Hermione Granger, she repeated. I was born September 19, 1979, my parents are— my par— my. Grief weighed her down. Her chest tightened. Her parents, where were they? Who were they? She felt overwhelmingly sad, it hurt inside and out. Her body shook in a distant place and reverberated here too. 

Count again for me dear

Hermione counted, inhaling, exhaling. The grief subsided enough for her to think a bit more clearly. 

Good, Miss Granger, very good. Now let’s try a little more. What is the last thing you remember?

Hermione's head felt like it had slammed into a steel wall. Red eyes, the face of a snake, pooling blood. The images swam before her. The pain in her head exploded, blinding white light wiping out any clear thoughts. The feminine presence slipped away. She screamed now, screamed and screamed, until her throat was raw. A voice murmured sweetly, whispering assurances to her. 

“Breathe dear, count to ten with me.”

Delicate hands covered her own for what felt like hours, the pain never easing. Eventually she felt their warmth leave her and thin cold glass clinked against her teeth, pushing past her dry lips. 

“Nooooo!” Hermione managed to gasp out in between screams, her body rolling away. She didn’t want to sleep anymore. Hermione held her head trying to quiet herself, she inhaled deeply and exhaled raggedly. Writhing uncontrollably, shaking violently, her body tucked tightly into a fetal position. 

The piercing pain began to ease, from excruciating to agonizing until it was just barely tolerable. After what felt like hours she lay quietly, drenched in her own sweat, her chest heaving, eyes staring up at the gold trimmed canopy. Following its pattern mindlessly. 

“Miss Granger” a feminine voice called again. This time it wasn’t in her head. The sound broke her out of a trance, tearing her eyes away from the gold lacy pattern and across the bed. A very elegant woman sat at the edge of the bed, her eyes a clear blue, her lips a velvety shade of red.

This was Narcissa Malfoy, the realization caused a brief pulsating pain, she winced quickly, the pain didn’t last thankfully. She stood on her elbows and looked at her full on. 

“What do you want from me?” Hermione asked, her throat ached from screaming, her voice low and raspy. 

Narcissa nodded in an unspoken acknowledgment and stood from the bed quietly. The sadness in her face melted away and was replaced with a haughty indifference. 

“For starters, I would like to get you cleaned up— Rux!” She called out with a graceful demand. An elderly elf appeared with a small pop, it glanced at Hermione warily. 

“Yes, Miss.” the elf croaked out with a deep bow. 

“Draw Miss Granger a bath, she is not to leave this suite. She’ll need to bathe with the rags on unfortunately until we figure something out.” As Narcissa finished the elf began to protest. 

“The mudblood can wash in dungeon, Rux will fill buckets” the elf offered, shooting Hermione a nasty look. 

“You dare tell me how to run my home, Rux” Narcissa's voice was smooth, her tone never changing but the effect was punishing just the same, her eyes furious. 

“Rux thinks the Mudblood—“ the elf tried again. 

“No, Rux doesn’t think” Narcissa snapped her fingers at his face to keep him from interrupting her. The elf stilled. 

“Rux, will refer to this young lady as Miss Granger from here on out, and you will keep her in this suite, do you understand.” Narcissa enunciated her last words, the question rhetorical, she rose with grace and left the room without a second glance at Hermione. 

The elf shifted nervously as Narcissa's footsteps faded down a hall. As soon as she was out of sight it burst into tears. Hermione watched it with confusion, too stunned to console him. After a few seconds the elf sobered up and limped around her bed to the other side of the room. He opened a door she hadn’t noticed before, it’s ornate design blending it into the walls. 

The sound of rushing water, called to her, she hadn’t had a bath in so long. She began to wonder just how long but trying to form a timeline caused little pinpricks of pain along her temples so she ignored the question. Instead she shuffled to the edge of the bed, twisted her legs from under her and swung them over edge. 

She carefully lowered her weight testing her limbs. Standing fully, she exhaled deeply, realizing she had been holding her breath. Her toes sank into the soft carpet, she closed her eyes, wanting to soak in the feeling. The sound of a throat clearing brought her back. 

“Rux fills tub. Rux waits til Miss Granger is clean.” His long droopy nose scrunched as he said her proper name. 

Hermione nodded her response and began taking slow steady steps, the room spun slightly as she reached the bathroom door, she leaned her head against it, bracing herself, counting to ten. Her fingers began tracing the pattern of an appliqué, following its rounded design as it swelled and flourished. Rux cleared his throat behind her again. She blinked repeatedly before stepping behind the door. 

“The— Miss Granger mustn’t remove rags. Only to the neck.” Rux croaked from beyond the door. Hermione turned back to the door where the elf’s voice carried through and came face to face with herself. 

A long rose quartz vanity spread across the length of the bathroom, a massive mirror rang alongside it. The vanity itself was three times the size of a normal one, the room in its entirety was double the size of her childhood bedroom. The thought caused a deep sadness to spread through her, her temples throbbed threateningly. She pushed the thoughts away. Hugging her middle for comfort Hermione took in her reflection. Her hair stood out more than anything. Several frizzy lumps adorned her head, she reached up to feel the matted thickness, it moved as a whole. She sighed and let her fingers roam down to her face, dark sunken circles framed warm brown eyes, they stood out against pale sullen skin, cheeks hollow. Her fingers traced down to her neck where the rags began. 

Hermione recalled that a crimson stain had covered the lower half but it was gone now, leaving only a small hole at her navel. The rags were shorter than she’d realized, barely covering her thighs. She was completely bare underneath, the realization made her cheeks flush hotly bringing color to her face. 

Eyeing the door which was slightly ajar, she was relieved to find that the elf was not peering through. From this angle she could see quick moments, sheets being pulled off the bed and replaced. Sighing with relief Hermione carefully lifted the tattered rags, inspecting her body full on. 

Her ribs were very pronounced but she had no bruises now. Her skin was dull, specks of dirt and dried blood were littered across her body. The skin next to her navel was slightly different, you could barely tell, she skimmed her fingers over it feeling the difference. It was thinner in that spot, slightly more sensitive. 

She tried pulling the rags over her head only to feel them constrict around her neck. The tightening ceased as soon as she dropped them, gasping for air.

Remembering Ruxs' words that she mustn’t remove the rags, Hermione simply allowed it to hang above her shoulders like an odd sort of scarf. Her arms dropped to her sides and the sight startled her. Holding her arm out she stared at it in shock. The words mudblood whore etched into her skin. Silent tears slid down her cheeks. Her head began to ache. She looked away, pushing all thoughts and memories deep down as she stepped towards the massive claw foot tub in the center of the bathroom. 

Steam billowed from its surface. Hermione reached into it and let her finger skim the hot water, it was perfect. She tentatively gripped the edge and eased her body in, letting herself acclimate to its temperature before completely submerging herself. 

An assortment of toiletries were laid on a small table next to the tub, labels in all different languages. She recognized the words Gel Douche on one of the bottles but the rest were in all different languages. There was a bottle of shimmering milky liquid with what she thought was Japanese writing and another looked like some sort of oil with a Hindu symbol on the bottle, it was all too confusing. Hermione reached for a couple of bottles with French labels that seemed familiar, the face of a dainty blonde haired woman flashed suddenly, her head throbbed intensely. Hermione did her best to ignore it. Taking the liquids and rubbing them all over, using a soft loofah to scrub away all the dirt and blood. 

When she finished the water was a murky brown color. As she stepped out of it she noticed the rags were suddenly dry, she pulled them down after drying herself with a nearby towel. Not only were the rags dry but they appeared to be clean, the smell of her sweat had vanished, its general raggedy appearance remained. 

Moving towards the vanity, she was thankful that the mirrors were still foggy, she didn’t want to see. 

A few items had appeared, a comb and a bottle of thick milky liquid with a small note attached, its writing feminine and delicate. 

This will help, use it generously.

Hermione began the grueling process of untangling her curls. Slathering the contents of the bottle into her hands she tediously worked it into her scalp. It tingled slightly, a minty sensation spreading down her face. The comb went through easier than she’d expected. Several tumbleweeds of hair were shed in the process. There was a particularly sensitive spot at the base of her head, she felt around and found it raw and scabbing, hair missing in patches. 

After a solid 30 minutes Hermione was able to successfully run the comb through her hair without any resistance. For the first time in her life she was grateful for her thick curls, thankful that their springy untamed nature would help hide the damage. 

Exhaustion overcame her. Setting the comb down she walked out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. The bed had been made, perfect and pristine like it had never been touched. It beckoned her. 

Something urged her to stop, to look around, to plan her escape, to stay awake but she ignored it, swatting away its insistence. Hermione didn’t want to plan, she didn’t want to think, didn’t want to fight. No, what she wanted was to drift off and never wake up. She reached the bed and crawled to the center, burrowing under its many layers letting sleep claim her without a second thought. 

~~~

A warm light glowed, she could see it through her eyelids, it woke her. For the first time she woke gently, not yet ready to open her eyes, her curls soft beneath her cheeks, she burrowed deeper into the pillow, falling back asleep with a low hum. 

A crackling sound reached her as she began to drift off again. Her eyes shot open, turning to face the fireplace as it sparked subtly. There was a small sitting area in-front of it with two ornate chairs in the same creamy white coloring faced each other, a small tea table between them. She noticed one chair was occupied. Her eyes followed the figure from the black leather shoes to a deep forest green jumper that stretched against trim shoulders, two large hands gripping the sides of the chair, knuckles white. But his eyes were what caught and held her attention, they bore into her, a raging storm.

“Comfortable?” he quipped with a smirk. 

Her eyes widened, she tried to control her breathing, her heart drummed furiously. She counted until her emotions ebbed. 

“Draco” she finally said, her voice still a bit raspy and sore, her tone calm. Calmer than she actually felt. Inside her emotions picked up wind, flurrying once more. 

His intensity lessened, his grip on the chair easing. 

“We need to talk, Granger.” His tone was cold, the smirk gone, his face blank. He motioned to the chair beside him with a large open hand. 

Hermione swallowed thickly, lifting the covers off and away, the warm light glowed on her bare legs and she remembered that she was only wearing the thin rags. Grabbing a fuzzy throw at the foot of the bed she wrapped it around her and scooted off the bed. 

She fisted the material with shaky hands, she clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. She walked the ten steps to the empty chair, counting each one, focusing on her movements, trying not to return his stare. She could feel his eyes on her with every step. 

Finally she reached the chair and eased into it, staring into the fire as she tucked her legs underneath her knees, smoothing the throw over her bottom half. The fire crackled gently, she watched it dance and spark softly. 

They sat this way for several minutes before she turned to face him. His eyes were softer now but still filled with intensity. He squared his shoulders, her gaze seemed to make him uneasy. She blinked at him, unsure if she should speak first. 

Before she could think of anything to say, he reached between them and picked up a small glass tumbler, an amber liquid swished inside it. He brought to his lips and drank with his eyes closed, his body relaxing. He set it down again and looked away from her, into the fire. 

“What have you got us into, Granger?” He said quietly, the fire reflecting in his silver eyes. 


	5. FIVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> & so it begins <3

Hermione's temples prickled as she tried to put together her memories of Draco. Enough had surfaced for her to put together some sort of timeline. Her years at Hogwarts were the most muddled, so many faces and details to keep track of. Her childhood before that was far too painful for her to even try, a pounding headache erupted whenever she did. The strongest memories were of the war, of Harry, Ron, The Weasleys— what was left of them, of Ginny and Luna. Training with Snape. Her captivity. And then there was Voldemort and pain and blood and it all went blank. 

Everything was incomplete, hazy, memories and their sounds not always fitting together. Voices and faces not quite matching up. Still there was enough for her to have a vague understanding of her life and the events that led to Voldemort. If she pushed too hard on any thought it caused her head to ache. Leaving her no other choice but to allow the memories to flow freely, focusing on controlling her emotions more than anything. 

“Why am I here?” she asked after a while. Studying his face, his hair golden in the warm light. He had changed, no longer the boy she used to know or had kind of known, not really. His face was different, his features more defined. Any softness gone. Taller, broader. Draco Malfoy had grown into a proper man or a monster, she wasn't sure yet.

“You remember me then, you know who I am, what I am?” His voice grew tense with every word, his last question gritted between his teeth, seething with anger. 

“Yes, some of it, enough—I think” she replied cautiously. 

He laughed at that, a cold rigid laugh that didn’t meet his eyes. Tilting the tumbler he downed the rest of the amber liquid. 

“Good” he said, turning to her now with a blank passive stare. “We leave in four days” He set down the small glass and stood from the chair, towering over her as he passed, heading towards the door. 

He was leaving, she realized. A panic coming over her. He hadn’t answered her question. She didn’t understand what was happening. Why was she here? Why was she alive? Her head began to throb as all of her unanswered questions raced in her mind. 

“Wait!” She called out, her voice clearer now, sounding much more like herself. 

He stopped at the door without turning back. 

“Please—“ she hated the pathetic whine in her tone, she tried to sound stronger. “Why, why am I here?”

He stepped forward, like he meant to ignore her, gripping the door knob and turning it, then standing still. Several silent seconds passed before he turned his face slightly in her direction.

“You’re here because the Dark Lord commands it, you’re here to help me—“ He said, finally.

“Help you?” She repeated, interrupting him. 

His eyes narrowed “Yes, Granger. You’re going to help me with my mission for the Dark Lord.”

A rage began to simmer deep inside her. 

He turned to look at her again before leaving the room. 

“The Dark Lord gave you to me, you belong to me now.” He gave her a satisfied smirk before closing the door behind him. 

Hermione stared into the fire as Draco's words repeated over and over. Never, she thought. She would never help him or Voldemort. Hermione didn’t belong to anyone. Watching the fire dance and fizzle she waited for it to die, waited until the room grew cold and dark. 

When only the moonlight illuminated the room she rose from the chair with newfound courage. She tiptoed to the window, reaching the handle and pulling it open, she wanted to see how far from the ground she was. There was a protective screen blocking her view, she tried to lift it, using her nails to pry it off. It was useless. 

Hermione took a few steps back and charged at it full force with a bit of a jump. Her entire body bounced back before she reached it, landing on her arse with a loud thump. She closed her eyes, not from pain, thankfully the plush carpets had broken her fall but from the realization of how much noise she’d just made. 

A few moments passed, nobody came. She stood quickly and looked about the room. Aside from the large furniture it was empty. She quickly searched through a large dresser, empty. She felt the walls for another hidden door and found one that opened to what was probably a closet judging by its size, it was also empty. 

As a last resort she went to the bathroom and searched for the comb, it was too small to break and use as a weapon but it would have to do. She had settled on the idea when she suddenly remembered that the loofah she used to bathe had been the kind attached to a long wooden stick. Excitement bloomed at the realization. 

After snapping off the sponge side Hermione felt satisfied with its sharp raw end. She gripped the wooden stick tightly lunging forward a few times, adrenaline coursed through her. Before she lost her momentum she went towards the same door Draco had left through just a few hours ago. 

The carpet texture changed beneath her toes as she entered a long hallway, less soft and more solid. Looking left and right Hermione was unsure of where to go, it was darker out here than in her moonlit room. Several portraits, muttered in the darkness, thankfully they couldn’t fully see her, nor she could they. Instead they commented on the strange noises, wondering who it could be. 

A blue light glowed at one end of the hallway, she wasn’t sure if she should move towards it or away. Choosing to follow it, Hermione warily headed in the same direction, hands out in-front of her, fingers spread wide open with one hand the other gripping her makeshift stake. The hallway ended and the moonlight shone through a domed glass covered ceiling, revealing a landing with a grand staircase at its edge. 

The stairs twisted downwards in a half spiral. She inched towards the banister, momentary terrified by the wide open space, she felt exposed. Peering over the edge she saw the stairs continued further into a full spiral, a large foyer at its base. The blue light glowed again from a corner beneath her, somewhere far beyond the bottom of the stairs. 

Hermione quickly descended the steps, her eyes intent in the direction of where the light had shone. As the steps ended she felt cold marble floors beneath her feet. Hermione looked around the foyer searching for a door but the room seemed to be shaped like a circle, she wondered if there was a hidden door. She walked towards where the blue glow had disappeared and another hallway appeared, seemingly out of thin air, she groaned inwardly and moved forward once more. 

There were many doors now and she was hesitant to try them. None of them seemed like doors that led to the outside. Not grand enough. Deciding to keep moving, she passed by without inspecting any of them. After several seconds she began to feel nervous, her adrenaline slowing. She itched to run back and inspect every door. 

As she neared yet another average door she prepared to open it when she saw more moonlight reflecting in a large mirror on the wall. She turned behind her, looking for the source and found yet another hallway. This one opened up to another foyer and staircase, behind the staircase was an archway that led to what appeared to be a sitting room with large bay windows displaying a bright full moon. 

Hermione peered into the room nervously, stepping quietly. As she entered she noticed there was a low fire, almost dead, it’s glow too weak to illuminate more than a few feet around it. She stilled at the sight of it, standing in the middle of the room, she looked around. 

Several leather chairs were placed around the fireplace. A rich emerald chesterfield couch dominated the room just inches away from her. Hermione started to retreat slowly, realizing someone had been here very recently and was possibly still here or coming back. She turned towards the archway ready bolt when a warm hand gripped her calf. 

Her hands instinctively covered her mouth, swallowing her scream, the makeshift stake dropping to the floor with a deafening thud. She tried to jump away but the hand held firm, fingers twisting against her skin. Hermione's eyes followed the hand, it connected to a dark sleeve, a green deeper than that of the couch it seemed to emerge from. 

Her eyes roamed upwards over the deep green jumper she recognized from earlier, until she found a pair of half closed silver eyes staring up at her. Draco. He groaned loudly and the sound vibrated into her, somewhere deep and low. He closed his eyes and let his head fall forward, his forehead leaning against her lower thigh above her knee. 

She instinctively placed a hand on his head, her fingers sinking into the silkiness of his luminous hair, softer than she’d ever imagined. He was sitting on the floor, his back to the couch, knees bent, feet bare.

Hermione didn’t know what to do or say. He mumbled something against her skin, his thumb tracing circles in the place where he held her, his grip eased and she stepped away from him, her hand still in his hair. He lifted his head fully, looking up at her again, eyes darker now. 

“Is it true?” He asked, his gaze intense and searching. 

She didn’t understand what he was asking. 

“Is what true?” She responded with genuine confusion. She tried to step away a little more and accidentally tipped over something hard and hollow, a bottle. It rolled away towards the fire, its dying embers slowly illuminating the label, Firewhisky. The bottle was empty. 

Draco was sloshed. 

She looked back at him, he seemed to have sobered up momentarily, his face cold and expressionless again, a slow smirk rising in his lips. 

“Is it— is it true that you love me?” He said in a mocking tone, slurring his words slightly. 

Hermione's eyes widened in horror. She bolted out of the room and into the hallway, running back up the stairs and into the room she’d come. Tears streamed down her face, head throbbed, she held her skull as her body slid down the door. 

Don’t scream, she thought. It will pass. I will not scream, I will not scream, she chanted in her head. 

She counted and counted, focusing on the numbers all the way to a thousand and then starting again until the pain subsided. Too exhausted to crawl into bed she curled herself against the door and closed her eyes until sleep came to her. 

~~~

The next morning she woke up and found that she was in bed again, the events of the previous night slowly returned. She wasn’t sure when she’d made her way onto the bed, perhaps an elf had placed her there. She thought about the previous night again. The same mortification overcame her, her neck felt hot and her ears burned with shame. She swatted away any thoughts of Draco— how her fingers sunk into his soft hair, how his mouth felt on her skin, the way his thumb rubbed behind her knee. 

I need to find a way out, Hermione thought. I need to escape. She jumped out of bed and began to pace, thinking. Suddenly the doors burst open and Narcissa appeared, her eyes spotting her and narrowing. 

“I pride myself in being a great host, Miss Granger, I have gone above and beyond to ensure your comfort. Only to be repaid with such disrespect!” Narcissa spoke in a high pitched tone that wasn’t quite yelling, just slightly elevated. It was her eyes that delivered the intended strike, a furious cobalt blue. 

Hermione stilled, eyes wide. 

“I am doing the best I can under the current circumstances, we ALL are! I will not tolerate this sort of savage behavior in my home!” She whipped out the broken loofah stick and tossed it at Hermiones feet. “Did you really mean to maim my son, my family, after everything we’ve done for you!”

“I didn’t intend to use it, it was just for protection.” Hermione explained, her voice small. She stepped backwards until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed. 

She wasn’t sure why she couldn’t rage right back at this woman the way she would in any other situation. After all she was their prisoner, their property, regardless of their treatment of her, she was being held against her will. Yet, she understood Narcissa's anger and she felt incredibly guilty for causing her any duress. Hermione hated herself for it but knew it was true, she didn’t want to fight with Narcissa, she’d been very kind to her thus far. Whatever was happening here was beyond her control.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Malfoy” she said quietly. 

“It can’t happen again, Miss Granger” Narcissa said, her voice calm again, her usual grace returning. 

Hermione nodded and Narcissa turned to leave the room. 

“Ah, before I forget” Narcissa said with a small smile. She whipped her wand out and produced a white cotton material. It unfolded and expanded creating a small curtain effect between them. Hermione could only see Narcissas shadow beyond it. The slim figure waved a wand with quick sudden movements and the material formed a grid that separated into small even squares. One by one they stacked themselves on top of one another. With another flick of her wand a small receptacle appeared and the stack of cotton squares floated over to it. 

“I have no use for these.” Narcissa stated loudly as if speaking to the room. “ or this” she added, producing a small spool of white thread with a small needle tucked into it. It too floated into the small garbage can. Hermione stared at her with confusion. A small pop broke the silence and the elderly elf appeared. 

“Rux takes garbage” it squeaked. 

“No, this is Miss Grangers garbage. Rux you will not touch it. You may come back for the needle at the end of the night and dispose of it personally.”

The elderly elf scrunched his nose in disapproval and vanished with another pop. 

Narcissa swiftly left the room leaving Hermione more confused than ever. 

She stared at the small garbage can for a good ten minutes before it hit her. 

“Oh my goodness!” She said out loud. How could she be so stupid! Narcissa wanted her to fix the tattered rags, of course! Rags like a house elf. They can’t be presented with clothes. She laughed a little and the feeling felt foreign and wrong, like it didn’t belong to her. It certainly wasn’t a laughing matter, she scolded herself. Pushing away the thought she reached into the can and pulled out the spool of thread and the needle embedded into it, and then snatched up the small cotton squares. 

She began to work tediously with ardent determination. First she laid the squares against her current rags to measure and then all along the floor in small rows, careful to add an extra square to each layer to allow room to move. Then she sewed the squares together. 

Rux entered the room a few times throughout the day. He brought in a tray with breakfast; eggs, toast, bacon and some tea but she’d been too busy to bother. He’d come back for it a couple of hours later, shoved the toast into his mouth and shot her a nasty look. When he’d returned in the evening with dinner she made sure to pause momentarily to eat a little, thanking him as he shuffled away, his nose scrunched in annoyance. 

Hermione nibbled on a steak and kidney pie, forcing herself to eat at-least half before continuing her work. When he returned for the dinner tray he’d been less annoyed, his nose only slightly pushed upwards, she thanked him again. 

Many hours later she began sewing the pieces onto her current rags and then connecting the new parts together. Sewing the back half was the most difficult. She’d gone into the bathroom to lift the rags and turn them around so she could see properly. 

Being in the bathroom reminded her that she didn’t have any undergarments. Making a pair of knickers would be tricky without scissors and she didn’t want to ask for a pair, she was sure it was out of the question. Especially after last night's events. Creating a bra was an easier task, she thought as she pictured a simple bandeau design. But she didn’t have enough material for both, unless she ripped off the bottom layer she’d already sewn. Hermione mentally kicked herself for not thinking of it sooner. 

It was almost evening and Rux would surely return at nightfall for the needle. Making a quick decision she opted for knickers and quickly got to work. The design was not ideal but it would do the job. Without any other materials she would have to tie them at her hips to keep them from falling. 

An hour later her knickers were complete and Hermione thought they didn’t look half bad, thinking she'd seen bikini bottoms in a similar style. She went to put them on when an alarming thought ran through her mind. What if she couldn’t take them off? Considering her situation she could only hope that was the case. Violent thoughts swam into her mind and she began to hyperventilate at the idea of being raped or who would be the one to do it. She shook her head furiously, clearing away the thoughts, counting to a hundred. 

When she’d calmed she strung together several left over scraps and tied it around her wrists. She let it sit for a few seconds and then untied it without any resistance. Doubling her efforts she tried sewing the scraps together until it was a complete bracelet of sorts and slipped it over her wrist again testing it, she waited and then pulled it off. She wasn’t sure if she should be happy or terrified that the knickers would not work the same as the rags. 

Finally she stepped into her makeshift knickers and fastened the ties at her sides, feeling like a person again. Tears welled in her eyes, she swiped at them furiously. How ridiculous, Hermione thought. I’m crying over knickers. Setting the spool of thread and the needle by the nightstand she walked over to the bathroom again to inspect her work. 

At the far end of the bathroom was a full length mirror, she stood in front of it, taking herself in. The rags were still rags, resembling a discarded patchwork quilt, but they covered her properly. She’d patched the hole at her navel and added an extra layer around her bust for coverage. The most dramatic change was the length. The rags now reached her knees in an a-line design, very much like a dress or a large pillow case. Definitely more like a pillow case she decided. 

Satisfied with the results Hermione decided to take another bath, while she still had the chance. Soaking in the warm water, her rags pushed up around her neck, she thought about the previous night. Separating her shame from the facts she focused on what really mattered, Draco knew her secret. 

He was grossly misinterpreting it, she told herself, but he knew what Voldemort had found in her mind or at-least some of it. What else did he know she wondered? Why was she here at Malfoy Manor? Why wasn’t she dead? Why did Voldemort give her to the Malfoy's, to Draco? 

Her temples prickled slightly as she let memories flood. The memories of the previous night floated at the surface clear and proud but Hermione wanted more, she looked further and slowly stepped into a trance. The deeper she fell the more confusing the memories were, emotions wrapped around her, confusing her, she gently pushed them away. Fear and sadness were the most insistent. There were moments when she stopped and allowed them in, felt their pain but made sure not to wallow in them. Carefully closing them off she continued. Doing her best to ignore memories that brought forth more questions. She wanted to go deeper, she needed to, she didn’t quite understand why but she didn’t want to question that too. 

As her mind strengthened so did her ability to control her emotions. Flipping through certain memories in her path without becoming overwhelmed by the faces and voices they held. Still something urged her to keep going and she pushed forward until she reached a barrier. Its presence stilled her, she studied it without moving closer. There’s more, she thought. Reaching towards it she felt the barrier give way easily, dissolving at her touch. 

Hermione peered into its depths and found a brilliant white light at its center as she neared it she realized the light was actually two pieces, barely connected, a frail webbing interwoven from one end to the other, appearing to touch but only just. Her soul was broken. Grief washed over her, she embraced the feeling, allowing it to weigh her down until it passed. As the weight lifted her awareness heightened and Hermione focused her mind, centering herself, grounding her intent. 

Several memories fluttered before her, Harry’s face flashed in many of them, his secrets. The memories rolled into one another becoming one until they formed a small orb, a warmth spread around it and it shimmered with golden light. Hermione felt a new emotion, peace. She left the orb floating gently beside her broken soul and pushed back towards the surface. Closing the barrier behind her. 

“Miss Granger, cannot sleep in tub. Rux clean tub now” a small voice squeaked somewhere far away. 

“RUX CLEAN TUB NOW!” The voice rasped again, louder this time. 

Hermione opened her eyes, the bathroom unfolded and a small elderly elf came into view. She shivered and realized she was still in the tub, the water was near freezing and her skin had turned pruny. Her gaze shifted over to the elf who stared at her with a twisted furious face, arms crossed. 

“I’m so sorry Rux. I’ll be out in just a moment.”

Rux gave her an irritated huff and shuffled out of the bathroom. Hermione quickly wrapped herself in a fluffy white towel, the rags awkwardly hanging around her neck, she felt them dry within seconds. As she stepped out of the bathroom Rux rudely brushed past her muttering something about being behind on his work because of her. 

She sat idly on the bed. Lost in thought, waiting to be alone again. A few minutes later Rux emerged from the bathroom. Shuffled around to the nightstand and took the needle, leaving the spool of thread behind and vanished with a pop! Alone at last Hermione pulled the rags down fully and began to pace. 

Hermione remembered everything. Well, almost everything. 


	6. SIX

~~~

Hermione paced for hours, trying to decide what to do. She needed to speak with Draco, that much was certain. He’d said they would leave in four days. Where were they going? She’d have to know in order to help. 

She had so many questions that she wasn't sure he’d be able to answer or that he would even be willing to. He wanted to talk last night but ended up storming out to get wasted instead of truly speaking with her. 

Her mind prickled slightly, she was overworking herself. She’d only just healed and this was a lot. Certain thoughts were still overwhelming, like her parents. She remembered them or who they thought they were anyways. Voldemort knew who they were now too, what had happened to them? Was it fast or slow? Were they in pain? She needed to know. Her head throbbed. 

She was hyperventilating again, dizziness threatened to overwhelm her, she sat down on the bed. Her hands shook intensely but she kept the tears from forming. Good, she thought, taking a deep breath. Counting to a hundred and then backwards until she was calm. 

Hermione needed to speak with Draco, needed to know about her parents. She practiced the conversation in her mind. Willing herself to push through the pain of bringing up their memories and accepting all possible answers. Something told her no amount of practice could prepare her for the answers Draco might have. How could anyone ever be ready for the worst of possibilities. 

She wasn’t sure what she wanted to hear or not to hear. Were they better off dead, quick and painless? Did she hope they were alive somewhere being tortured and suffering while she was forced to do Voldemort’s bidding. Perhaps she could refuse and he’d kill them quickly but she knew that wouldn’t be the case. It would never be that easy. None of this was easy. Tears threatened to fall.

No, she thought. I can’t. 

Remembering that Draco had only appeared as she slept she decided to give it a try. Hermione turned off the lights and crawled into bed. She tried to keep her thoughts clear, focusing on controlling her emotions, reinforcing her shields. 

The moon shone into her room. She’d left the curtains open on purpose, to help her eyes adjust to the darkness. Hours passed and she wondered if he’d come at all. Hermione had almost decided to leave the room and go searching for him when she heard the sound of the door click and open. 

Hermione closed her eyes and willed her body to relax. Taking long deep breaths, the way she used to when she meditated. 

Footsteps approached the bed and it took all of her concentration to keep her heartbeat steady. She had the sudden urge to swallow, her throat felt dry. The temptation to open her eyes and see if it was him was overwhelming. Someone stood at the foot of her bed, quiet and unmoving, every minute that passed was excruciating. Eventually soft footsteps moved towards the window and away from her. It was easier to concentrate now that they weren’t so close. 

Hermione was almost positive it was Draco. Slowly, trying not to give herself away she opened her eyes just a bit. It took a few seconds to adjust to the darkness, she couldn’t really see past her lashes. A few minutes passed and she opened them a little wider. A long slender form leaned against the window, a glass tumbler in one hand, swirling it contents gently. She frowned. 

“You look disappointed, Granger. Were you hoping to see someone else, my father perhaps?” He asked crudely. 

Hermione cringed inwardly at the idea of Lucius entering her room at night or at all. Maybe she shouldn’t speak to Draco after all, she thought. Drunk Draco didn’t seem very friendly. Although, when she’d found him completely sloshed on the floor last night he’d been quite friendly, gentle even. 

Gathering her courage she pulled the covers off and left the bed, walking carefully towards him but instead of approaching him she passed by and seated herself in one of the chairs by the fireplace. She looked up to find him staring at her, or through her, she couldn’t be sure. She waved an open hand at the empty chair next to her, mirroring him from the night before. 

Draco smirked at her, tipped the tumbler to his lips and downed its contents before peeling himself off the wall and taking a seat beside her. 

“We need to talk.” Hermione said matter of factly. 

Draco stared back, expressionless, eyes hard and clear. 

“Er, are you in the right state of mind. To um, to speak to me?” She asked tentatively. 

He laughed at that. This time it was real, heartfelt and yet there was a coldness to it, turning it almost cruel. He sighed afterwards, like he hadn’t laughed in a long time and had quite enjoyed it. Hermione crossed her arms and shot him an irritated look. 

“Are you in the right state of mind, Granger?”

She blinked at him. Touché, she thought, shrugging her shoulders softly. 

He waved his wand and a fire roared to life. She flinched at the suddenness. 

“Right, let’s talk then.” He said but didn’t follow it with anything else. He stared at her, eventually raising a brow, waiting. 

Fine, she’d go first. I can do this, she thought, taking a deep breath. 

“Last night—“ she began. 

“No.” He cut her off, his voice hard and definitive. 

“When you sai—“ she tried again. 

“Ask something else.” He said coldly. 

“Fine but we’ll have to get back to that eventually” his eyes narrowed at her but she kept talking. “What is it I’m supposed to assist you with and why would I assist you?”

“You will know what I need you to know and you’ll do what I need you to do, when I need you to do it.” His tone was robotic, he’d rehearsed this. 

She shook her head in disbelief, her eyes rolling in annoyance. 

“Is this how we’re going to play it then?” She asked, cutting to the chase. 

“I guess so” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. He turned to face the fire. 

“Coward.” She said to him, her gaze focused on his face, on the fire reflected in his eyes, daring him to meet her stare. 

“Fuck you, Granger” he said quietly without looking at her. 

His lack of a reaction sent her over the edge. Her emotions bubbled over and she snapped. Lunging at him with all her force, pummeling his face, shoulders, chest, any part of him he could reach. 

“Tell me!” She yelled as her fists swung and landed. “Tell me what he wants from me, tell me the truth! Why am I here!”

It took him a few seconds to react, he seemed stunned by her sudden outburst. He quickly grabbed her wrist and pushed her off. She fell to the ground and sobbed. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Control yourself, she thought. Control your emotions!

She sucked in a deep breath, counting to ten. Draco paced around her, breathing raggedly. She looked up at him as he ran a hand thru his hair, a bright red mark on his cheek. A terrible feeling overcame her, her head throbbed painfully. 

“Draco” she said quietly. He stilled. “Are they alive, my parents?”

He looked down at her curiously, his head turning sideways, thinking. Something flashed in his eyes before his cold hard stare returned. He nodded his response and looked away, deep in thought. Hermione didn’t feel any relief, if anything it somehow felt worse to know they were alive. 

“Do you want to see them?” he asked firmly.

The world stopped spinning. She stood to face him. 

“Are— they here?” The notion rocked her. She'd been sleeping in a comfortable bed, eating multiple meals a day, bathing and making clothes and her parents were locked away somewhere below her, suffering. 

“No. Er, they’re somewhere else.” he answered hesitantly.

That seemed to comfort her for some reason although it really shouldn’t. She didn’t want to know she decided, didn’t want to know how bad it was. She focused on her mental guards, closing off her emotions once more. 

“I don’t want to see them, ever.” She said decidedly, a far away look in her eyes. 

“We leave in a few days. Anything could happen between now and then. Just be prepared.” He instructed her like she was supposed to know what that meant. Ready for what? How was she supposed to prepare?

“What happens if I refuse?” She asked, standing again. 

He sighed with frustration and walked back to his chair, slumping down into it and whipping out his wand to refill the glass tumbler with the same amber liquid as before. 

“You know what happens, Granger” he said, tipping the small glass to his lips. 

Hermione reached out and stopped it from pouring down his throat. Pulling it away, he watched her wide eyed letting his hand drop as she brought the glass to her lips and swallowed. Her face pinched as it burned its way down. She exhaled slowly, handing the small glass back to him. 

“What if I don’t care if they die?” She said coldly, her emotions tucked far far away. 

He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. 

“Maybe I’m a cold heartless bitch” she added. “They’re dead anyways, right? No matter what I do or don’t do, he’ll never let them go. It’s better that they die.” Her lips trembled slightly but she stood her ground. 

He leaned closer, inspecting her momentarily, before answering. 

“You’re a lot of things, Granger. A cold heartless bitch isn’t one of them. No matter how well you’ve been trained to act like one.” 

Her eyes widened. He knew. 

“How is Severus these days, slippery snake.” He asked, confirming it. 

Hermione remembered Voldemort's mention of Snape many times during her interrogations. It had to be common knowledge by now that members of The Order were being trained in Occlumency by Snape. It was already well known that Snape was a skilled Legilimens and Occlumens even before the war. Not many could master one let alone both. His talent had helped him deceive Voldemort for many years. 

“How do these work?” Hermione asked, pointing at her rags, ignoring his question. 

“Ah, yes. Those are a new design. Not quite perfected as you may have noticed. A work in progress for when your precious order falls.” He said matter of factly. 

Hermione ignored his taunt. Looking at the bright red mark on his cheek, something wasn’t adding up. 

“You didn’t answer my question, Malfoy?”

His eyes flashed silver and he leaned in again, closer. 

“It means I own you. You do as I say or you die.” He said cruelly, pushing for a reaction. 

Hermione ignored his bait this time, her defenses locked into place now. 

“I thought You-Know-Who owned me.” She taunted, questioning his ownership. 

“Like I said the Dark Lord gave you to me. Ownership passes on.” He shrugged his shoulders like it didn’t matter. 

She let his words sink in, slinking back into her chair.

“You mean to tell me that by You-Know-Who merely saying I was yours, I am now bound to you” she asked more clearly, probing. 

“No, he didn’t just say it, Granger. That’s enough on that subject.”

Hermione opened and closed her mouth. Thoughts racing through her head. She needed more information. 

“I don’t think you know how it works.” She stated, tucking her feet under knees and smoothing her rags, her gaze lingering on the fire. She could feel his eyes on her, intense and furious. His anger filled the room. She waited. 

“Ok, Granger, let’s try it out then.” He spat out. 

She faced him again, waiting. Their eyes met and she could see his brain working. He leaned back into the chair and squared his shoulders at her. Hermione blinked patiently. 

“Why don’t you come over here and suck my cock, Granger?” He said smugly, boring his eyes into her. 

This time it was her turn to burst into laughter, she doubled over laughing in earnest, her face still wet from her tears. She felt a bit hysterical and tried to sober up. 

Draco stood now, fuming at her. Both his hands running through his hair. Her laughter eased and she sighed at him. He narrowed his eyes at her and she saw the moment it clicked in his brain. 

“Granger, get on your knees and crawl to me.” He said through gritted teeth. 

Hermione started. She lifted from the chair involuntarily but quickly resisted the urge to move any further. She took a step back instead. A wave a guilt washed over her, the need to obey hummed in her bones. Her knees felt weak, like she’d been running for miles and needed to collapse onto them. It was overpowering, the more she resisted the worse it felt. 

Draco smiled at her cruelly. 

“I said, get on your knees” he ordered her again. 

Hermione dropped, she was just a few feet away from him. She inched backwards towards the fire. The guilty feeling intensified. She remembered her experience with the Hogwarts house elves, with Dobby. The way Dobby had to hurt himself every time he defied his masters. In a flash Hermione knew what she had to. 

Draco realized it too, the smile falling off his face, he lunged at her but he wasn’t fast enough. Hermione's hand dived into the fireplace and gripped a smoldering log, her scream tearing through the room. He quickly pulled her arm out and accio’d a bottle of essence of dittany. 

“You bloody idiot!” he yelled at her as he opened the vial, squeezing small drops of liquid over her bubbling skin. Hermione whimpered, tears streaming down her face. Her skin began to cool, the pain dissipating. She realized Draco was running his hands over her shaking shoulders, over and over again. She pushed away, quickly rising. 

“Don’t you ever do that to me again!” She spat at him, holding her healing hand protectively. 

“Listen to me and I won’t have to!” He yelled back running both hands through his hair. Looking at her with a mixture of frustration and disbelief. 

“Next time I’ll let you burn, you crazy witch!” He stormed out of the room then. Hermione didn’t see him for another two days. 

~~~

She spent the next couple of days training, the way she had in her cell. Reminding herself that this too was a cell. Although she hadn’t explicitly been asked to stay confined to her room she’d taken it upon herself to do so. Hermione gathered that the portraits in the hallway would alarm anyone if she stepped out so it wasn’t worth the effort. Besides the idea of roaming Malfoy Manor wasn’t appealing, she had no idea what or who she might find and the possibilities terrified her. 

By the end of the second day she was bored, restless and she couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling in the back of her mind to try, just try. Waiting until darkness filled the room and only the moon shone through, Hermione quietly stepped out. She began following the same path she had before. This time she’d open every door she came across, she told herself. 

The portraits murmured in confusion again, although she was sure she had distinctly heard the word mudblood being whispered more than once. She moved forward, widening her eyes in the near total darkness, hoping to spot the mysterious blue light again. Reaching the landing, she let out a deep breath and began descending the stairs. 

A portrait near the bottom of the stairs muttered something to her. When she ignored it and stepped lower it spoke louder. 

“You dare sully Malfoy Manor, filthy Mudblood!”

Hermione turned to it, an elderly gaunt face stared at her with a familiar haughtiness. It made her blood boil. 

“Shut up or I’ll rip you in half” she said in a harsh whisper. 

The old man gasped and left his frame. 

A low chuckle made her jump and she almost lost her balance, thankfully she was at the last step and was able to land on the marble floor. Hermione gripped the railing steadying herself, looking around in the darkness. 

“Did you just threaten my great grandfather, Granger?” Dracos said into the darkness. 

Before she could reply the blue glow from a few nights ago shone at the top of the stairs, distracting her. Ignoring Draco's voice she started to move back up the stairs when she felt his grip on her arm. 

“There’s a light, wait” she said trying to pull out of his grasp. “Draco, let me go, I’m tryi—“

“Be quiet” he ordered her and began pulling her in the opposite direction of the light. Hermione started speaking several times but found her tongue felt numb. Several incoherent mumbled sounds came out but she seemed to have lost her ability to form words. She wondered if she should try to scream. 

Suddenly they were in the same sitting room from a few nights ago and she was tossed onto the velvety emerald couch. 

“Do you mind telling me why you’re roaming about insulting portraits in the middle of the night, Granger. Planning another escape?” He asked, releasing her arm and straightening. 

Hermione wriggled away, sitting with an indignant huff, her eyes furious. 

“Well?” He asked again

She waved at her mouth, making circle motions. She mumbled a few times, a warped whispering sound came out, she sounded like a bloody idiot. Hermione gave up with a roll of her yes. 

Draco looked at her with a mixture of confusion and amusement as he realized what was happening. 

“Ah, I see, perhaps we should keep you this way” he said chuckling at her again. 

Rage began to bubble, deciding that it didn’t suit, she pushed it down. Pulling her defenses tightly she leaned back on the couch and blinked at him. If he didn’t want her to speak, so be it, she was all the better for it. 

“You’re no fun, Granger” Draco said, with a disappointed look.

She blinked at him slowly, lips tight.

“Fine, you can speak” Draco said finally with a dramatic sigh. 

“You bloody arsehole Malfoy!” She spat out but didn’t move or say more. 

“Are you going to answer my question now?” He asked. 

“I thought I saw something, a blue light” she answered nonchalantly, crossing her arms. The room was cold. 

“You’re not to go searching for it again.” He ordered her. 

A smile flitted across her face, she quickly hid it, scolding herself. She doubled down on her defenses, taking a slow even breath. 

Draco stared at her intensely. 

“Let me rephrase that, I order you not to go looking for any blue light. In fact I order you not to leave your room again after tonight.” 

His words made her even more curious about the light, she blinked at him as if unfazed by his command as she considered it. But then she remembered they would be leaving within a day anyways and decided the light would have to wait. 

“I have more questions” she said quietly, her defenses dropping just a bit. 

He rolled his eyes at her and plopped on the opposite end of the couch. Hermione tucked her feet under her knees, edging as far away from him as possible. He wasn’t storming out or silencing her, perhaps there was hope at a normal conversation. She dropped her defenses a little more, allowing some emotion through, feeling more human now. She closed her eyes as she spoke. 

“Does it have to be this way, whatever this is?” She asked, her voice small. 

Hermione felt exhausted and it came through in her voice. She was tired of being locked away, tired of being scared, tired of this war. Draco stared at her without replying. He relaxed somewhat, his mood matching hers, he ran his hand over his face, brushing away the few locks that fell forward. 

“Talk to me, please” she pleaded, the sincerity in her voice surprising both of them. 

“We leave for Peru tomorrow” he said softly. 

“Peru, why?” She asked, something pricked in the back of her mind. 

“Because the Dark Lord commands it.” Draco answered coolly. 

Hermione didn’t probe further, afraid of angering him. She waited, hoping for more. She merely nodded in acceptance. They stared at each other. Hermione found herself unable to hold his stare, breaking first. 

“Can you make a fire?” She asked. 

He looked down at her thin rags before producing his wand, a quick swish and a fire roared to life, illuminating the room.

“Thank you” she said softly.

He nodded and stared into the fire. 

They remained this way for several minutes as the fire crackled gently. Hermione felt calm again. She turned to look at Draco and found him running a hand through his hair, something like frustration coming over him. A thought came to mind, remembering their days at Hogwarts. Hermione wondered if that’s why he was so uneasy, he still hated her after all these years. 

“What do you need me to do?” She asked cautiously. 

He chuckled at that but didn’t look at her. 

“I know I’m the last person you want to be stuck with—“ he looked at her now, his eyes intense, she continued. “Me of all people. But if we have to work together, if we have no other choice” other than die, she thought. “We should at least try to be civil”

His eyes hardened, there was something familiar about the sudden change, but she couldn’t put a name to it.

“Granger, you don’t know anything.” He said, anger radiating from him. 

She started to apologize, unsure of what she had said to set him off again when a movement interrupted her thoughts. In the blink of an eye Draco stood before her, towering over her folded form. She gasped at the abruptness. 

“Don’t move” he ordered. 

Hermione wouldn’t have been able to even if he hadn’t ordered her, she was too stunned by his closeness. He leaned down, pressing one knee onto the couch, crowding her. Fear rushed in making her heart race, she pushed it back out, her defenses tightly in place. 

“That’s right, you’ve been very well trained.” He said, dragging a long pale finger down her cheek, leaning into her. Hermione followed the movement, watching him catch a curl with it and wrap it tightly around his finger. 

“Maybe I could teach you a few things too, Granger. A lesson on how civil a Death Eater can really be” he said in a low voice, almost a whisper, his breath hot on her cheek.

Hermione's eyes widened. She wanted to bolt and she braced herself for it, gathering all her energy. Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest as she counted to three and pushed forward, even though she felt like she’d jumped ten feet in the air, in reality she’d only slightly twitched away from Draco. 

He smiled cruelly at her, his face so close she could smell him, he smelled like peppermint and something else, something dark. 

“You’re not a monster, this isn’t you, you— you’re not like them.” She whispered, her voice shaky, eyes searching his face, for what she wasn’t sure. 

“You don’t know what I am” he said through gritted teeth, grabbing her arm and running his thumb over Bellatrix's work. Hermione flinched involuntarily. 

“How would you like to earn your branding, Granger.” He said, pressing down on the word WHORE etched into her skin. 

She stared at him in disbelief but unwilling to waver. Draco was baiting her and she didn’t know why but she wasn’t going to let him get to her. She steeled herself and her emotions, she wouldn’t break now. 

“Do whatever you need to do, Draco.” She replied, closing her eyes.


	7. SEVEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: some noncon thoughts, a detailed description of what someone might go through after rape/assault. Self harming behavior. Reader beware.

~~~

Hermione woke with a start, eyes wild, chest heaving. She was back in her room, under the covers, alone. Panic overwhelmed her as last night's memories came crashing down. She reached under the covers feeling her body, feeling between her thighs. Everything felt normal. 

She jumped out of bed and shifted her weight, nothing hurt. Still she felt unsettled. Rushing to the bathroom, she stood in front of the full length mirror and pulled the rags up to her neck. No bruises, just her normal dull skin and too thin body. She untied her knickers and saw that they were still clean. Lastly she slipped her fingers tentatively between the apex of her thighs and found nothing out of the ordinary. 

Momentarily relief washed over her and she slumped onto the floor. He’d bewitched her, she thought angrily. He’d put her to sleep and put her to bed. Though she found no obvious sign of abuse she felt violated nonetheless, how could she be sure nothing else had happened. 

Tears fell pathetically, she felt angry with herself. Looking back at her reflection she was overcome with rage. Staring at her frail body, her rags, her blotchy tear stained face. Hermione raised her hand smacked herself in the face, the sound echoed in the bathroom. Her cheek burned angrily. A strange feeling overcame her and she slapped her face again, and again, and again. 

“STOP!” A voice boomed from the bathroom doorway, Draco. He stormed in and grabbed her by the shoulders. 

“WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU!” He yelled in her face. 

She lifted her hands to cover her face as she sobbed. 

“Did you— last night, I don’t remember if you—“ her voice trembled. 

“No.” He answered quietly, releasing her. 

“That was— Granger that won’t happen again, I’m— I’m sorry for my behavior.”

She gasped at his apology, staring into his face and seeing the concern in his eyes. He meant it. She was so confused, she wished she could just stop thinking. Hermione covered her face again. She just wanted to be alone.

“Granger, we have to go, now. That was what I was coming to say to you. I can’t put it off any longer. Can you be ready in five minutes?” He asked, standing again. 

She gave a weak chuckle at his ridiculous question. 

“I don’t have anything, Malfoy. I’m ready now.” She said, looking up at him. 

He dragged both hands through his hair, pacing lightly in the small space. 

“Right, I forgot, go to the lounge and wait for me then” he said nervously. 

The overpowering urge to obey compelled her to move and she didn’t fight it. She assumed the lounge was the same room they’d been in the night before, she hadn’t been in any other part of the house. 

In fact she hadn’t ever been out of the room during the day so she’d never really seen what it looked like. As she made her way down the hall the portraits gave her disapproving looks but remained curiously silent. The hallway was dark, the walls covered with portraits of what she could only assume were Black or Malfoy family members, behind them a metallic silver swirling design ran in between the frames and along the walls. 

The carpets which she’d noted felt different in the darkness also looked very different than the ones in her room, a black on black houndstooth design ran along the corridors. Very fitting, she thought, for a Malfoy home. She’d expected nothing less. 

She reached the landing and looked up at the glass dome ceiling, the sun shone brightly, blinding her momentarily. She descended down a black spiraling staircase, she hadn’t been able to see the thorny twisting design of the banister in the darkness. 

It occurred to her that the manor was creepier in the daylight than it was at night. It’s gothic details were less obvious in the dark. She wondered how she’d managed to walk through this menacing hallway with various padlocked doors as fearlessly as she had. 

Finally she reached the lounge, it too looked very different with the sun pouring through its wide bay windows. This room was decidedly less foreboding than the rest of the house, she felt a little more at ease as she stood inside it. 

She’d just stepped fully into the room when she heard a small commotion coming down the stairs above the alcove. Hermione moved into a corner of the room unsure of what was happening. 

She heard Narcissas voice first and then Dracos. 

“I have it under control mother” Draco said impatiently.

“You promise to send word, dear? Anything you need. Don’t hesitate, come to me.” Narcissa said, a slight crack in her voice.

“Mother, please.” He said, stepping into the room, searching for her as he slipped into his cloak. 

Hermione met his gaze and quickly looked away catching Narcissa's eyes instead. Narcissa gasped as she took in Hermione's appearance. Hermione was momentarily confused until she remembered that her face was still burning from her outburst. Narcissa's hand flew to her own face in shock, turning to Draco wide eyed. 

“It’s not what you think mother” Draco said, with a look of disbelief at her unspoken accusation. 

“It better not be Draco Lucious Malfoy!” Narcissa said tightly, her eyes narrowing briefly before her easy demeanor returned. She faced Hermione once more and approached her. 

“Take this, hold it for Draco” Narcissa said loudly, speaking to the room oddly as she handed her a small leather bag. Draco rolled his eyes behind her. Hermione nodded and took the leather bag. 

“We have to go” he said, his impatience growing. 

“Yes, yes, ok” Narcissa said quietly, stepping away from Hermione and turning to face Draco. Narcissa lifted her head to kiss his cheek. Draco's face flushed but he quickly leaned down and returned it. Narcissa held his face for a second, tears forming in her eyes before leaving the room quickly. 

“Righ then” Draco said stepping into the fireplace without looking at Hermione. He stared straight ahead and held out his arm for her, Hermione stepped beside him and linked her arm with his wordlessly. 

“Isla Suasi” Draco said clearly into the fire, as he released the floo powder. Brilliant green flames burst to life at their feet and the lounge faded away.

~~~

Hermione let out a small squeak as a vast open body of water appeared before her, a spectacular blanket of stars covering the night sky. It’d been so long since she’d been outside, it startled her, causing her to lose her breath. She felt her arm being released and she stumbled forward, losing her balance, hyperventilating. The world felt like it would swallow her whole. 

“What’s happening to you?” Draco asked, stepping in front of her, concealing the view of the water behind him. 

Hermione dropped to her knees, gripping her chest, the pressure increasing. She couldn’t control it, her heart pounded erratically, thoughts raced - terrible thoughts. 

“Im— I don’t— know” she panted out. “I can’t— control it”. 

“Breathe, Granger” Draco said calmly, grasping her shoulders gently. 

“I want— I want to go — inside, please” she pleaded, closing her eyes. 

Draco helped her to her feet and guided her. Hermione followed mindlessly focusing on her breathing. She was pushed towards a round wicker chair, she dropped into it quietly, her breathing slowly returning to a steady rhythm. 

“Drink this.” Draco ordered, handing her a small vial of calming draught. Her hands moved on their own, unstopping the vial and downing it quickly. It was slightly sweet, with a cherry taste. It reminded her of the medicine her mother would give her when she was sick as a child. The memory made her curl into the chair. Her body relaxed as the liquid made its way down, a familiar numbness passing through her. 

“Thank you” she said calmly after a few minutes. 

“Does that happen often, Granger?” Draco asked, his words had the tone of annoyance but his eyes didn’t quite match. He looked worried, tired. 

“I don’t know, it usually happens when I wake, not every time. I think it’s called a panic attack.” She answered truthfully, her voice trembled. She hated her vulnerability. Hated how her emotions betrayed her, exposed her. Hated the weakness it revealed. She wanted to be alone. Wanted to practice Occlumency and center herself. 

She stood suddenly slowly turning and taking in the wide open room. Hermione was in a large open sitting area, two wicker chairs faced a massive open window, stepping back she realized it was a wall. Half the room was made of glass, giving a breathtaking view of a grand seemingly endless ocean and the night sky, she’d never seen so many stars. Beyond the windows a long wide wooden deck expanded outwards, a fire pit at its center. Hermione concluded that had been where she and Draco had floo’d through. 

She reached out and touched the glass gently accessing it. Hermione turned away from it with a shiver, looking up she was surprised to see that the roof was made of thickly packed straw. She followed its circular design all the way to the other end of the room where it met a rustic stone wall. Placed against it were two medium sized beds, covered in thick knitted white linens and burgundy accents. 

“Draco, where- where will I be, er residing?” Hermione asked cautiously, fearing his answer. 

“This is the best I could do, Granger. We have to stay out of sight.” Draco said, releasing a deep irritated sigh. He seemed on edge. 

Hermione swallowed thickly giving up on the idea of being alone. She wouldn’t be alone for the foreseeable future. Turning back to face him she returned to the chair opposite him. 

“Will you tell me what we’re doing here?” She asked, her voice small. Hermione braced herself for his refusal. 

“No.” He said definitively. Just as she’d expected him to. He stood now and walked to the edge of the room opening a small door she hadn’t seen before revealing a bathroom, he disappeared inside it. 

Hermione jumped up and began to pace slowly. The calming draught was working, her thoughts were clear. We have to stay out of sight, she repeated.

Hermione pulled her last memories of the war and The Order, before her mission with Snape began. Recalling that The Order had been heavily focused on keeping Voldemort's spread to a minimum. His reign of terror overwhelmed most of Europe but faced strong resistance in all other territories and countries. MACUSA hadn’t joined forces with The Order although Harry had regular meetings with the President of Magical Congress. 

It made sense that Draco was weary of being this far away from Voldemort’s territory. Hermione couldn’t be sure where the Peruvian Wizarding community stood in regards to the war but she guessed it wasn’t with Voldemort judging by Draco’s need to remain unseen and his general nervousness. 

A memory flitted across Hermione's mind. A joke shop with two identical red headed faces, an assortment of colorful products, a dark obsidian crystal. 

Fred and George, Hermione thought, her heart soaring at the memories that came more clearly now. They had owned Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Hermione had helped put together their business plan, researching different vendors for all sorts of magical elements and ingredients. 

Hermione had helped form a very lucrative partnership with the Peruvian Wizarding Government in order to exclusively sell Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. Most importantly the contract included exclusive rights to the importation of Peruvian goods, making Fred and George a generous passive income. Funds which helped keep The Order running. 

Her temples began to prickle as more memories rushed forward. She pushed them aside for now, wanting to avoid a headache. Focusing on her memories of Fred and George’s contract, trying to recall every item listed. This is why they were here, she thought. Draco needed Peruvian goods or magical ingredients of some sort. What he was after she couldn’t be sure of. 

She started putting more details together, making sense of what she already knew without digging deeper into her memories. Doing her best to keep the throbbing in her brain to a minimum. 

Voldemort must’ve seen this in her memories, her knowledge of the country and its people, and of the Weasleys contract. 

Maybe she could reach someone from the Peruvian Wizarding Company, she recalled having corresponded with several members many years ago, but couldn’t bring forward any names without needing to step into a deep trance. Wanting to get a better idea of her surroundings she decided to step outside. 

Hermione took clear even breaths as she slid the door quietly and stepped onto the deck. A gentle breeze swept over her causing her rags to flair a bit at her knees, she wrapped her arms around her. She stepped out a little more. Ignoring the eerily quiet and calm waters. Instead turning to see behind the Villa and into the distance. 

Soft grassy hills stretched around for a mile or so and disappeared into the dark night. Hermione couldn’t see any lights illuminating windows or any street lamps. There was nothing. Her frustration flared and she decided to take a better look in the morning. Hermione turned to walk back inside and saw Draco leaning against the sliding glass door. 

He had changed into pajamas, black silk with silver details around the rounded collar and sleeves, silver buttons all the way down. The silk clung to his trim physique, she followed the outline of him all the way to his bare feet. Hermione forced herself to tear her eyes away. 

“You weren’t thinking of running away, were you Granger?” Draco asked, a glass tumbler in his hand again. 

“No!” Hermione squeaked, but her voice said otherwise, she looked and sounded guilty. He shook his head with a knowing smirk. 

She crossed her arms and stalked towards him. Taking the glass tumbler from him, he let her, watching her as she passed him. 

“You can’t use floo powder and the perimeter is enchanted, so don’t bother.”

Draco explained coolly, turning to follow her inside, sliding the glass door shut behind him. 

Hermione tossed back the amber liquid, feeling it burn down her throat, thinking she now understood why people liked drinking so much. A spike of adrenaline ran up her body, liquid courage indeed, she thought. 

“So is it Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, Alpaca Healing Fleece or Andes Lagoon Essence perhaps?” Hermione asked casually, matching his cool demeanor. She smiled wickedly when she saw irritation flood his features. Draco ran a hand through his hair before crossing the room. He was face to face with her in two long strides. 

“Not so lost in there are you?” He snarled, pushing his index finger against her temple. 

Hermione smacked his hand away and began to step away. But he grabbed her arm and whipped her back to him, his face so close she could breathe him in. Out of the corner of her eye she saw his wand raised in his other hand, aimed at her. She closed her eyes instinctively. 

“Look at me” Draco ordered, his voice harsh and demanding. 

Hermione’s eyes shot open, looking at him carefully through her lashes, meeting his stormy stare. 

“Legilimens!” 

Draco’s face fell away. 

~~~

Memories of Fred and George spilled all around her. Details of their business plan, their trademarked recipes and potions and finally the contract with the Peruvian Wizarding Government came forward. All of her research fell open, spilling incoherently, creating a dizzying tornado around her. 

She tried to remember who she had communicated with all those years ago, the question repeated forcefully and she didn’t recognize the voice, it wasn’t her own. Draco, she thought. Draco was in her mind. 

There wasn’t any pain with him, just an intense pressure and confusion. A ripple passed through, his question pressing, she couldn’t answer it even if she had wanted to. I don’t know, she thought. Memories whipped around her rapidly, she felt overwhelmed by the details, formulas and ingredients, all manner of logistical details that didn’t make sense anymore. It was so disorganized. She needed time to sort through it all. Suddenly the flurry slowed and Dracos intention changed. Hermione felt relief as the waterfall of knowledge momentarily ceased. 

The small tornado widened and dispersed as different memories came forward, she saw Draco's face flashing in them. His face changed from a boy to a teenager and then to the man he now was. Memories flickered through in rapid succession from their first meeting as children at the Hogwarts castle entrance, to the last time she’d seen him when Harry, Ron, and her had pulled him and Blaize out of the fiendfyre. 

No.

Hermione tried to push him out and failed. There was a difference to his presence, he wasn’t infecting her mind the way Voldemort did and yet he wasn’t soothing the way Narcissa had been when she’d helped Hermione regain her senses. Her mind recognized him as foreign but not as a threat. She stilled at that, fear creeping in, she wasn’t sure why. 

He sent another ripple and the memories unfolded, expanding, more details coming forward. Hermione saw herself watching him, admiring his platinum blonde hair as he walked the hallways passing her with a menacing look. Hermione felt her younger self flinch internally, feeling the tightening in her chest as she lifted her chin at him, unwilling to let him see how he affected her. 

Another ripple and she was being swept away, spinning and spinning, strong hands held her waist. A handsome face with dark features blocked her view. Hermione twisted her neck to look past Viktor and saw Draco holding Pansy Parkinson. Her heart raced as jealousy burned through her, she swallowed it back down. Viktor shifted his head and gave her a sad smile, he knew. Hermione's face felt hot and she looked down shamefully as the music faded. 

Draco watched that memory a few times before moving on. 

He sent another ripple, something stronger and her senses flared. 

A memory came forward of that same night after the Yule ball. Hermione in her Gryffindor dormitory, peeling her dress off and slipping into bed without changing into pajamas. Letting the crisp sheets caress her skin, she’d been worked up for hours, she remembered being eager to be alone. How she peered around the dark bedroom to see if anyone was awake. Most of the girls hadn’t made it back and probably wouldn’t. Ginny was fast asleep and snoring lightly. 

Hermione recalled the way her body hummed with anticipation as she slid down under the covers and her fingers skimmed across the thin fabric of her lacy bra. Her breast felt so full and sensitive beneath her touch. The sensation made her press her thighs together. She wanted to be touched, wanted his touch.

Hermione watched as she closed her eyes, and imagined his hands on her, gripping her waist the way he did with Pansy Parkinson. She remembered pushing away Pansy’s face from her fantasy, wanting to focus on him, his body, his hands. The way his dress robes fit, his height, his skin. Hermione whimpered and let her fingers trail down, skimming over her belly and slipping under her knickers, in awe of how slick she was there. 

No! No! No!

Hermione pushed harder, as she watched a younger version of herself squirm and pant. She reached beyond the memory wanting to destroy it and found another. Pulling it forward and unfolding it she let more memories of Draco flood through. 

Dracos voice echoed around her 

Filthy little Mudblood

“You’ll be next Mudbloods” Pointing her out, everyone’s eyes turning to her, associating that word with her face forever. 

Hermione punching him in the face, her heart filled with disappointment. 

Dumbledore's body sprawled on the lawn beneath the tower, vacant eyes wide open, dead.

Bellatrix carving Mudblood into her skin as he stood just feet away

Crabbe sending the Fiendifyre curse at her while he watched. 

The Villa began unfolding before her again, her body sagged in Draco's arms, exhaustion overwhelmed her. He laid her down on the bed gently, she felt the warmth of his arms leave her, a soft groan escaped her lips. 

Her head throbbed as she adjusted her body, trying to clear her vision, blinking several times. Draco wasn’t near her anymore. A clicking sound made her turn towards the glass and she saw his figure walking away, he stepped into the fire pit and a green fire consumed him. Hermione was alone. 

She didn’t allow tears to come this time. Instead she sat up and gathered her strength, closed her eyes and fell into a trance. 

Hours later Hermione emerged triumphantly. The sun beamed in through the wide open room, the view was breathtaking and yet the need to curl into the bed was pulling at her. It made her eyelids feel heavy and her body numb. She needed to stay awake, she reminded herself, shaking her head to stay alert and deciding that going outside would probably help. 

She opened the door and stepped onto the deck, a warm breeze greeted her and she felt lighter than ever. The openness still scared her but she didn’t allow those emotions to come to the surface, refusing to bend to them. Stepping closer to the edge she looked into the dark clear water, it wasn’t the ocean she realized, there were no waves, it was a lake, the largest lake she’d ever seen. It went on for miles and miles with no end in sight. 

Her mind quickly pulled at her newly organized thoughts about Peru and concluded that she was on one of the remote islands on Lake Titicaca. She remembered Ron laughing at the name, when she mentioned Fred and George traveling there for business how he’d begged her to say it again as he wiped tears from his eyes. The memory made her smile. 

Exhaustion kept creeping up and Hermione was finding it harder and harder to stay awake. She needed to stay awake, she wanted to speak to him as soon as he returned, to give him the name he’d been searching for. 

As a last resort she decided to take a dip in the lake, just her feet she told herself, she sat down by the edge of the deck and eased her legs in. 

A roar behind her made her jump and she nearly fell in altogether. Pushing herself up to stand, she turned to see Draco's back as he returned to the Villa. He was wearing regular clothes again, she recalled he’d left in his dark silk pajamas. She followed him quickly trying to catch up. 

“Where have you been?” Hermione demanded, realizing she sounded angry and wishing she’d used a different tone. She mentally kicked herself again. Why was it so difficult to keep her cool around him? 

“Erm, What I meant was, I’ve been waiting for you” she tried again, this time she sounded timid which didn’t suit her either. Merlin, just get it out, she told herself. 

“Draco, I—“

“WILL YOU SHUT UP!” He screamed, turning fully, his mouth twisting with rage, his face red and splotchy. 

Hermione backed away, clasping her chest. 

He had blood splattered on his white button down shirt, a deep crimson stain on one of his rolled up sleeves. 

“You’re hurt” She gasped and instinctively stepped towards him. He flinched away from her quickly and she froze. 

“It’s not mine” he said coldly, sitting on the edge of the bed, dropping his head into his hands. 

Hermione shook, she didn’t know what to say or do, she simply stared at him. Her mind raced with all the possibilities. Everything from Draco hurting her parents to him getting into a brawl. Maybe he got drunk and picked a fight she hoped. She didn’t want to ask who’s blood it was, she told herself not to, but she couldn’t stop the question from escaping. 

“What did you do Draco?” She finally asked, steeling herself for whatever he might say, hoping for the strength to survive it. 

An eternity passed, the silence growing into a deafening crescendo. All Hermione could do was stand there, frozen, waiting. 

Finally he raised his head, the sun rays illuminating his hair brilliantly, his eyes dark and empty finding her. 

“I killed Snape” he said, dropping his head back into his hands, his shoulders shaking. 

Hermione ran to the stone wall, desperately pushing at it until the hidden door appeared, she let it close behind her, dropping to the floor and sobbing uncontrollably. The sobs racked her body, losing her breath over and over.

She cried for Snape, for her parents, for everyone who had suffered and died during the war, for herself. The sounds she made were ugly, guttural and foreign but she didn’t care. She lost control and let her emotions overwhelm her completely until it exhausted her and she slept. 

~~~

When she woke, she found herself tucked into a new bed, thick warm covers enveloped her. Hermione didn’t wake with a start, didn’t lose her breath, she simply laid there staring into the darkness until the sun rose. 

Her eyes were swollen, she could feel their tightness. It felt like she’d cried out every liquid in her body, her mouth was so dry. A sudden shift at the foot of the bed caught her eyes and she saw Draco standing there staring at her, he’d been sitting there this whole time. 

Hermione pushed herself up, trying to put as much distance between them. He waved his wand and produced a glass then waived it again to fill it with water. He took a step towards her, handing her the glass. 

She accepted it with shaky hands but didn’t drink. Unwilling to hold his stare she looked into the distance, past the glass walls, beyond the lake. Until all she could see was the sun. 

Hermione had played with the idea that Draco was lying but knew in her heart that he wasn’t. She could tell by the way his voice sounded when he said it. The way he was torn up about it, even now. His face was blank, his eyes red rimmed. 

After the grief had settled Hermione found herself wanting to ask more questions but unsure if she cared for the answers. Learning of Snape’s death had set a lot of things into perspective. Hermione acknowledged that she had completed her mission. She’d been sent to deliver a lie and she had. It had never been a guarantee that it would take. 

Her mission ended with her delivering it. What Voldemort did with it was always inconclusive. They had assumed many things, planned for all possibilities. Snape dying hadn’t been something she’d considered. He never went into battle, instead opting to assist by creating lethal potions and training new order members, training her. He was never in any danger. That was probably her most pressing question. How had Draco killed Snape? How had he gotten to him? We’re others dead? Had the Order Fallen? Did any of it matter anymore?

Her head throbbed and she didn’t want to think anymore. She drank the water and set the glass on a small wicker nightstand. Then curled into a ball away from him and drifted back to sleep. 

Days passed, sometimes she’d wake in the middle of the night, other times the sunlight would shine through her eyelids forcing her to open them. She’d scoot out of bed to use the bathroom or shower. The small leather bag Narcissa had given her to hold for Draco was filled with things she was sure Draco would never need. Things like the same French bottles of toiletries she'd used at Malfoy Manor, the same comb and few other feminine items. 

Hermione used what she needed and did the bare minimum when it came to her personal hygiene. Always returning to bed, ignoring Dracos looming presence. He was always at the foot of the bed, waiting. It was like he never slept. Hermione wondered if he had been bitten by a Vampire.

There was always food on her nightstand when she woke, no matter what time of day or night it was. She’d nibble on some toast or take a few spoonfuls of soup and then crawl back into bed. 

After what seemed like a few days, maybe longer- she’d lost track of time, she noticed Draco wouldn’t stay after she’d awaken. Hermione would return from her shower and find herself alone or she’d nibble on some food to quiet her stomach and feel his weight leave the foot of the bed. He would walk onto the deck, step into the firepit and disappear. She never knew how long he left for, she’d simply watch the green fire swallow him and then drift off to sleep. 

One particularly sunny morning she’d awakened with the need to use the restroom. After returning she found Draco blocking her way back into bed. Refusing to meet his stare she sidestepped him and crawled into bed from the other side. 

“I need to ask you some questions” Draco stated. 

Hermione turned to face him. His hair was unkempt and his jumper was filthy. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. 

“Do whatever you need to do” she replied quietly. Her eyes flicking over to his wand, waiting. 

“No, not with Legilimency. I want to ask you questions and I want you to answer honestly.” He said, sitting down on the bed, facing her. There was a sincerity to his voice and in his eyes that she almost believed. 

“The rags don’t work like that, Draco. If they did Voldemort wouldn’t have had the need to use Legilimency on me” she said to him, waiting for his rage to explode again. 

“I know.” He answered calmly, searching her face before continuing. “ I want to talk, normal like. I want you to talk to me”

Hermione didn’t understand this game. What did he want from her? She stared at him, thinking. He killed Snape, she reminded herself. She tried to think like him, to put herself in his shoes. Draco had a mission from his master, a master he feared. Hermione was sure that if he failed, Voldemort would kill him or hurt his family, his mother. She understood his motivation and accepted it even though she couldn’t justify his actions. 

“Will you talk to me?” He asked again, interrupting her thoughts. 

Do I have a choice, Hermione thought. She could almost laugh at the reversed roles. She’d been so eager to speak with him in the beginning and he’d blown up at her at every chance. Now that she’d finally shut up he was begging her to speak. Hermione decided not to fight anymore and just give him what he wanted. 

“The name is Cisco Punocana, he’s who I corresponded with on Fred and George’s behalf. I met him briefly at Bill and Fleurs wedding so he might still recognize me. That’s all I remember.” She said quietly and then started to scoot under the covers once more, turning away from him. 

“Er, thank you. That’s very useful actually. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about.” He replied. 

Hermione didn’t uncurl herself or say anything more. She didn’t have anything else to say to him and she felt tired again. She wanted to sleep forever, it never felt like enough. 

“Will you come sit with me?” He asked, his voice low, pleading. 

“No.” She said, closing her yes. 

Draco sighed quietly but didn’t fume the way she half expected him to. She heard the sound of his footsteps as he walked away followed by the soft creaking sound of him sitting in one of the wicker chairs. 

Hermione wanted to drift back to sleep. She wished for it desperately but she couldn’t ignore him now. Not when he was calm and gentle and patient. When he wasn’t pushing or forcing or ordering her like he could. She squeezed her eyes trying to stop her thoughts. 

Groaning with frustration Hermione pulled off the covers and left the bed, stalking over to the empty chair, noticing how his eyes widened as she neared. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, I'm making up characters, magical ingredients and other stuff. Good times, he he.


	8. EIGHT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update 2/27/2021
> 
> For anyone following this story: I plan on posting this weekend. Restrictions lifted in my city a couple of weeks ago and life has been surprisingly busy, in a good way. I have written well into chapter 20 but have not had time to sit down and edit. I should have at least a couple of chapters up by Monday (yeah I lied - it's now Tuesday afternoon and im just now editing)

~~~

Hermione folded her legs and smoothed over her rags before crossing her arms defensively and facing Draco. 

“What?” She asked softly, trying her best not to sound hostile. 

He stared at her for a few moments and nodded. He opened his mouth and closed it a few times then ran a hand through his hair making her heart thrum a little faster. 

“Merlin, Draco. You’re making me anxious” she said, meeting his stare. 

He let out a deep long sigh and her anxiety went through the roof. 

“What the bloody hell is it!” Hermione snapped in a harsh whisper, not wanting to yell at him full on when he seemed so distressed. 

“Hermione, I can’t do this anymore.” He said with a shaky voice. Looking away from her quickly, his head dropping into his hands 

He’d said her name. Draco Malfoy said her name. The sound of it leaving his lips floored her. Her jaw fell open as she stared at him in disbelief. 

“Nothing makes sense anymore” He continued, interrupting her thoughts. He was staring at the ground now. 

Hermione ignored the urge to go to him, to hold him and comfort him. The same way she would for any of her friends, she told herself. Instead she sat in the chair gripping the sides, knuckles turning painingfully white as willed herself to stay seated. This could all very well be part of some deluded game, you can't trust him she reminded herself. 

“What doesn’t make sense?” She asked, her voice hard and steady. 

He looked at her again with worried eyes, he didn’t trust her either. He swallowed thickly. 

“Snape wanted me to kill him” he said, almost a whisper. 

Hermione gripped the tighter, her fingers ached. She forced herself not to react. 

“I seriously doubt that” Hermione replied through gritted teeth. 

“You don’t understand— what he said, he left me no choice.” Draco said, his voice cracking. He stood now, hands on his head and exhaling heavy puffs of air as he gathered himself.

Hermione felt dizzy. She didn’t want to talk anymore. Didn’t want to play this game, whatever it was. 

“He didn’t fight back” Draco said through ragged breaths, he dropped to his knees in front of her “he could have fought back” his voice trembled with every word “he didn’t raise his wand! And then he— he” He couldn’t finish. Tears flowed freely now.

Her eyes widened, her entire body ached with the need to respond, to console him. She didn’t understand what was happening but she couldn’t stand to see him like this. If this was a game, Draco wasn’t winning. 

“Then he what?” Hermione asked, her voice betraying her with a slight tremble. Composure be damned, she needed to know what happened to make Draco break like this. 

“He gave me his memories” Draco said, quietly, his tears subsiding. 

“HE WHAT!” Hermione shrieked, jumping out of her seat and away from him, unintentionally knocking him back in the process. This time she held her head in her hands as her world fell apart. He was lying she told herself over and over as she began to pace. 

He watched her carefully, wiping his face and standing again.

What did he know, what had Snape given him? It didn't make sense, none of it, he had to be lying. A million thoughts and questions floated to the surface and her head began to throb, she felt heavy and exhausted. Panic swirled replacing the exhaustion, what if Snape wasn't on their side. Had he betrayed her, had this all been for nothing. She was going to be sick.

“I need you to tell me the truth. I need you to talk to me. I don’t want to force it out of you.” Draco said more calm now, as he sobered up. 

“Hermione what am I going to find in Snape's memories?”

Hermione gaped at him. Her head throbbed and tears fell. The world was upside down. Her mind worked quickly. 

“You— you haven’t seen them?” She said realizing the question was rhetorical she was thinking out loud, continuing to pace. Her defenses were scrambled, including her common sense. 

“No, finding a pensieve has been difficult, asking for one could raise suspicion.” Draco said, his voice closer now. 

Of course. Voldemort would want to inspect any collected memories himself.

Which made Hermione wonder why Draco hadn’t turned them in, being the faithful servant he was supposed to be. The panic subsided somewhat but she could hardly call it relief. There was still a chance he was lying she told herself.

“Why haven’t you given them to your master?” Hermione asked, unable to hide her contempt. 

Draco was by her side now, blocking her from continuing to pace, crowding her. She stopped and looked away, 

“I have to tell you something else.” He said, his hands cupping her face gently, forcing her to look at him. 

Hermione was overwhelmed by his closeness, the intensity in his eyes, by how broken he looked. 

“Tell me” she whispered. 

He closed his eyes tight, his face twisting painfully. The seconds felt like hours and she braced herself, was it Harry, Ron or Ginny. Every Order member's face flashed in her mind as she imagined their name leaving Draco's lips. 

“We don’t have your parents. We never did. They were never found.”

She couldn’t breathe. Draco held her arms to keep her from falling. 

“Don’t lie to me” she said, her voice cracking. She shook her head in disbelief. 

“I’m not, my father was tasked with finding them, he went to Australia but any trace of Wendel and Monica Wilkins ends about a week after you were captured. My father searched everywhere. He’s been severely punished” Draco said, his voice dropping low. 

Hermione let out a shaky breath. She felt something like happiness, relief maybe, but it was quickly replaced by doubt and confusion. 

“I don’t understand” she said, more to herself than anything. 

“I lied to you about your parents, to test you. I convinced the Dark Lord that you believe we had them”

“I did believe you!” Hermione shrieked at him, rage boiling inside her, gripping his jumper with fury. 

“I know, I saw it in your eyes that night. When you were finally lucid.” his eyes stared at her unwavering, begging her to believe him. 

I’m a bloody fool, Hermione thought. Kicking herself mentally because she did believe him, she needed to. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. His breath was harsh on her cheek, one of his thumbs stroked the corner of her lips. She opened her eyes to ask him again why she was here when his lips crashed into hers. 

Hermione gasped in shock and Draco pressed harder, his tongue slipping between her lips, sending chills down her spine. She moaned into his mouth and he swallowed the sound. He kissed her with determination, his lips punishing, his hands moving into her hair, twining his fingers into her curls. 

The force of it sent them backwards, Draco never stopping, until her back collided with cold glass. He released her hair and his hands moved down to her waist, his fingers digging into her hips. 

Hermione kissed him back matching his desperation, her fingers slipping over his chest and up his neck. She buried her hands in his hair, fisting it tight. He groaned, a deep guttural sound and she felt it vibrate on her tongue and drop low into her belly.

Draco moved his lips to her jaw, his lips caressing her. She whimpered when he reached a particularly sensitive spot, he stopped and sucked that specific area, using his teeth to gently nip at the place where jaw dipped into her neck. Hermione melted against him then, panting into his hair. His fingers gripped her hips lifting her closer and she wrapped her legs around him instinctively as he pressed himself between her thighs, pushing her back into the cold glass. 

Hermione moaned breathlessly, her eyes closed shut as he moved against her middle. She felt him everywhere but especially between her thighs, she pulsed. 

“Look at me” Draco ordered. 

Her eyes flew open at his command. She met his stare, eyes dark and heavy. Something flickered in them briefly and everything stopped. Draco reached behind him and unwound one of her legs, gently setting her down. Hermione felt unsteady, her lips were swollen, she realized she was panting, her heart pounded furiously. She leaned against the glass wall for support, trying to recollect herself. 

She felt so confused and disoriented. He stepped away from her then, his breathing returning to normal. He turned away and began to pace. 

The weight of everything that had happened crashed down on her once he wasn’t consuming all of her senses. Questions began to flow. 

Her parents weren’t being tortured. They were alive somewhere. She needed to find them. Who had gotten them out?

And Snape. Why hadn’t he fought back? What memories did he give Draco? 

“Draco—“ she started, realizing her lips were numb and touching them. 

“I know, I’m sorry. That was a mistake” he said, cutting her off. 

His words felt like a slap. Hermione froze momentarily. Telling herself that she understood. It had been a very intense moment, he was very distressed, obviously. He had acted without thinking. Hermione wasn’t the type of girl a guy like Draco Malfoy would entertain or lust after. She pulled herself together within seconds. Tucking away her emotions. It was a mistake, he was absolutely correct. 

“Yes, obviously” she agreed, clearing her throat. “I have questions. If you still want to talk, really talk.”

He was silent. Hermione didn’t want to look at him right now, she couldn’t. If she did she might feel hurt, or rejected or both and she didn’t think she could handle anymore pain. She wanted to focus on what mattered. They never kissed, she decided. It never happened.

Hermione walked back to the chairs and took a seat. Draco paced for a few more minutes and then joined her. 

“Does Voldemort know you killed Snape?” Hermione asked when he was sitting again. 

Draco nodded. 

“But he doesn’t know about Snape's memories—“ she saw his eyes narrow “I’m just thinking out loud, sorry” she said before he became frustrated. 

“Why would you tell me?” Hermione asked, the question escaped before she could think it through but she stood by it. 

Draco closed his eyes for a moment. Like he was deciding whether to be honest with her or not. 

“Because I need your help” he finally said. 

“With your mission? I told you everything I remember already.” She was confused by what more he needed from her. 

“No, I mean yes, that too. I need you to help me— to find a way to kill him—“ Draco stopped abruptly and grabbed at his arm, hissing through his teeth. 

Hermione watched him in stunned silence. 

“I’m being summoned.” He said nervously, twisting his neck, trying to release the tension. 

“You’re leaving now?” Hermione asked, panic rising. 

“I don’t have a choice” he hissed at her. The coldness in his voice and eyes returning. “Cisco Punocana” He repeated.

“Yes.” Hermione squeaked, dread settling in. 

He nodded and left the room, stepping into the bathroom momentarily. When he emerged seconds later he was dressed all in black, a Death Eater once more. 

Hermione cringed at the sight, a horrible thought repeated in her mind, she’d kissed a Death Eater. 

Draco walked away without giving her a second look. She watched his back as he left the villa and stepped onto the fire pit disappearing into the emerald flames. 

She stayed like that a long time. Running every word of their conversation while shoving away the memory of their heated kiss and focusing on everything else. There was so much more, it was overwhelming.

How had her parents escaped, she wondered. She had a slight suspicion but couldn’t be sure. It was something she’d never spoken about with anyone, not even Harry and Ron or Ginny, they all understood the potential dangers.

Hermione had snuck away a few times over the years to visit them, always alone, to see them from a distance. During one visit she’d pretended to be part of a survey team just to speak with her mother, knowing she’d answer the door and spare a few minutes. It hurt her so much to stand before her mother and not see any flicker of recognition in her eyes. She didn't return for another year.

The last time she port keyed to them had been the day she’d agreed to Snape's mission, after he had fully explained the extent of his plan. She’d gone to say goodbye, silently and from a distance. 

As long as Voldemort didn’t have her parents she didn’t care where they were, she decided. Hermione wouldn’t seek them out again, ever. She made peace with it and moved on to the next earth shattering piece of the night. 

Hermione thought about Draco's confession, he wanted Voldemort dead. This could change everything but she needed to be sure of his commitment to it. There was something that wouldn’t allow her to simply take his word for it. She needed something, proof or something in exchange, something. Hermione knew she wasn’t in position to negotiate but she had to try. He could have forced her to do just about anything, she reminded herself. Yet, he hadn’t. That meant something too, it had to. 

She thought about Draco falling apart, on his knees before her. The desperation in his eyes, the fear in his voice. It was clear he was struggling with his mission and his part in the war as a whole. He'd all but bared himself to her and had been close to sharing his own secrets. She’d felt it. Something had stopped him, something about her questions. He was suspicious of her involvement with Snape, her training. He wouldn’t talk to her without asking her to share more. He’d asked her for the truth, begged her for it. 

Then he kissed her, she sighed thinking about the way his lips had felt. Wanting to push away the memory but unable to keep it from rushing back. He’d kissed her like no one else had because she’d never allowed anyone close enough to. Hermione was sure no one would kiss her like that again. It’d been passionate, raw and debilitating. Her body had burst to life at his touch in a way she’d hadn’t known it could. 

It was a mistake, she told herself. Just like he’d said. A mistake that wouldn’t happen again. It had been a strange, emotional, overwhelming moment and that’s all. There were more important, more pressing things at hand. She needed to forget about Draco's kiss. Most importantly she needed to not think about the very real possibility that he had done it to disarm her because of what he knew, what Voldemort knew.

Hermione brought her focus back to Snape. She needed to pull the memories of his plan in its entirety. She’d kept from doing so before out of fear that Voldemort would interrogate her again. She still couldn’t be sure that she wouldn’t be summoned by him but she needed to take that risk.

She closed her eyes and Occluded, falling into that familiar trance. The process was getting easier now that her memories were better organized. Hermione had spent many hours over the past couple of weeks sorting through her mind. Outwardly she appeared to be sleeping and in part it was very similar considering how long prolonged the trance state was as she did her best to repair the damage at the surface.

Now she quickly navigated through it. Quickly reaching its end, with only minimal thoughts and questions distracting her. She reached the barrier and floated through it with ease and gliding towards the last Orb. Pulling at the secrets hidden amongst her memories of Harry.

Little thoughts, like memos were littered around her surface, guiding her to this place. Some were instructions, others were warnings. Snape had helped her fine tune her intuition. 

Hermione unravelled Snape's plan fully now. Pulling certain aspects of it out and separating them. Things she could take back to the surface with her safely, without compromising the plan, minimal risk. She felt a prickle of doubt, and Hermione sent a ripple asking for guidance. 

A memory of Snape unfolded itself, there was no sound or smell attached, Hermione found that curious. The memory played and she watched as Snape handed her a recipe for a potion, the writing was a bit hazy and she couldn’t make out the details. She watched her eyes widen at the recipes ingredient list, she mouthed something at Snape and he’d stepped away momentarily to rummage through his pantry. A few moments later he returned holding a small bottle with an iridescent mist inside it, the label read Essence of Andes Lagoon. 

Hermione added this memory with the other selections she’d made to bring back to the surface. The rest of the memories reformed themselves back into an Orb and she closed it safely behind the barrier. 

As Hermione left the trance a small panicked feeling came over her. She’d surfaced information that had been specifically hidden. Information that could potentially, at least partially, compromise the mission if Voldemort interrogated her again. Hermione could only hope that she was making the right decision.

Her eyes squinted at the bright golden sun rays, it was morning now. It was impossible to keep track of time while she was heavily Occluding. She looked around quickly, still alone. Draco hadn’t returned yet. Exhaustion settled in and Hermione didn’t fight it. She crawled under the covers and fell fast asleep. 

When she awakened the sun was setting. Her stomach growled but there was no plate of food on her nightstand. Draco still wasn’t back. He’d never been gone this long before. At least she didn’t think so. Hermione hadn’t exactly been paying attention to him the last couple of weeks. 

A horrible realization suddenly burst in her mind. What if Draco died? The idea made her chest ache, her breath caught. She told herself to relax, to count. He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. But if he was she was trapped here. Did anyone know she was here? 

Bright green flames illuminated the deck just then and Draco stumbled forward. Hermione jolted at the sight. He took a few steps and slumped onto his knees. Hermione screamed then, tearing herself out of bed and through the glass door. 

She reached him within seconds and froze at the sight of him. He was hurt, his hands were bloody, and he was hunched over. Without her magic she couldn’t carry him inside. Hermione pushed him onto his back and he let out a weak gasp. 

She slowly started to check his arms, legs, feeling over his middle but finding no injury. Lifting his cloak she felt around his stomach intently and found he had several layers. Thinking his injuries may be hidden underneath she began lifting the jumper he wore under the cloak and the button down shirt beneath that, tearing at the buttons in her hurry. 

Dracos pale skin glowed in the darkening sky. A thick silvery scar ran vertically down his stomach, Hermione gasped as she traced it up to his chest. No blood, she thought. He’s not bleeding. It’s not his blood. 

She stared down at his face, eyes closed, mouth slack. He was breathing, heavy even breaths. Hermione pulled his layers down again. Unsure of what to do for him. He was alive and breathing, that’s all that mattered for now. 

“Draco” she said softly, trying to wake him. Touching his face gently. Nothing. 

“Draco!” She repeated a little louder this time, pushing his chin to the side and pressing a few times. 

He opened his eyes briefly, his hand reaching for her face. 

“Hermione” he rasped. “I— sleep” and he was out again. 

She panicked a little as his eyes fluttered closed again. What if he had a concussion or was hit by a jinx. She couldn’t tell what was wrong without her wand, frustration bubbled inside her. 

Hermione stood and walked to the fire pit grabbing a bit of floo powder she yelled “MALFOY MANOR”. Nothing happened. She stared down at Draco as he slept. An idea popped into her head. 

“RUX!”

Several minutes passed before she heard a loud CRACK!

Hermione had never been so happy to see the elderly elf. She embraced him with a sob, relief washing over her. The elf was not pleased and pushed her away, his face contorting with disgust. 

“I’m sorry, it’s Draco, he needs help” Hermione said quickly, stepping away from the small elf. 

“Master Draco is sleeping” the elf said, peering at Dracos sprawled form and then looking back at her like she was dense. 

“Can you check to see if he’s hurt please” Hermione pleaded, trying her best to control her growing frustration. 

Rux wobbled around Hermione and over to Dracos body and stretched out a bony wrinkly hand, it hovered over Draco's face. 

“Master Draco hurt, Rux cannot help” the elf said, tears forming in his eyes. Hermione gasped. 

“Why— why” Hermione asked, her voice shaking. 

“Dark Lord hurt Master Draco, Rux cannot help, Master Draco must sleep now” Rux said softly, tears slipping down his wrinkly face. 

Hermione's chest tightened with rage. That fucking monster.

“Will he be ok?” She asked. 

Rux nodded and then stepped back, vanishing with a CRACK!

Hermione thought about what Rux had said, he couldn’t help Draco. She wondered if Draco had instructed it not to or if he couldn’t be helped because of whatever had been done to him. She wished she’d asked it more questions. 

She walked back into the room and pulled several pillows and blankets, bringing them out to where Draco lay and doing her best to make him comfortable. She hesitated before laying down beside him. Hermione stared at him for a while, memorizing his features, trying not to think about why it felt important that she do. When those neglected thoughts threatened to become a headache she turned her gaze to the sky. 

For a while she simply watched the stars, counting them and trying to name them as they became more clear in the darkening sky. She did this until the stars faded and she fell asleep again. 

Hermione dreamed of warm hands and eager lips, the feeling of cold glass against her back, silky blonde hair between her fingers. 


	9. NINE

~~~

Hermione woke with a shudder and found her cheek pressed against a firm pillow, too firm, her arm was thrown over it, hugging it tightly. She felt it shift beneath her slightly and opened her eyes as the previous night's memories rushed back. She sat up straight, feeling groggy as she stared out at the shimmering lake, the sun was rising. 

A warm breeze swept over the deck, she closed her eyes briefly, soaking it in. A sudden squeeze of her hip jolted her back to reality. Hermione looked down and found Draco watching her from beneath, smiling. Heat simmered at her neck and rose up to her ears. She’d been practically on top of him. Hermione had the sudden urge to plunge head first into the bloody lake and sink into its depths. 

“Morning, Granger” Draco said with a satisfied smile. 

Hermione wrapped the blanket around her tightly and avoided his stare. 

“Sorry, erm— I didn’t mean to fall asleep” she said as she stood slowly, grabbing her pillows and blankets. 

“Did you know you talk in your sleep, Granger?” He said stretching his arms and folding them behind his head. 

“I do not!” Hermione huffed. “What did I say?” She asked nervously, recalling her less than innocent dream. 

Draco winked at her and shrugged his shoulders. 

She rolled her eyes and looked away. Hermione ignored his teasing, too relieved at seeing him back to his normal self to feel irritated. 

“What happened” she asked quietly. 

Draco cleared his throat before answering. 

“Too much firewhisky” he said coolly.

Hermione looked at him, searching his face, before nodding, not wanting to push further. He didn’t want her to know. She gave him a weak smile before turning away to walk back to the villa. She grabbed the small leather bag and went into the bathroom to shower. Wanting to give him some privacy. 

She showered quickly, her body in autopilot as she ran through a list of questions. Determined to reach some sort of agreement with Draco. She felt that her terms were reasonable. Minimal casualties wasn’t a lot to ask for she thought. Feeling prepared she left the bathroom and heard Draco's voice thundering through the glass doorway. 

Hermione peered out from the bathroom doorway and saw Rux standing before Draco, the elf covered its face, shoulders hunched. 

“You disobeyed orders!” Draco yelled out, his face furious. Rux bawled into his rags hysterically. 

Hermione ran out immediately. Stepping between them. 

“No, Draco. It’s my fault. I called him, please don’t punish him” Hermione pleaded. 

“Mudblood's fault!” Rux squeaked in between sobs. Hermione shot the elf an exasperated look. 

“DO NOT FUCKING CALL HER THAT!” Draco raged. Rux dropped to knees, muttering apologies and sobbing. 

“It’s fine—“ Hermione tried. 

“IT’S NOT BLOODY FINE, GRANGER” His hands were in his hair, an angry vein at his temple threatened to burst. 

“Rux, leave us please” Hermione asked the inconsolable elf. 

CRACK!

Draco stormed past her. She’d noticed he’d changed into regular clothes again, dark gray slacks and a white button down. He sat in one of the wicker chairs and angrily shoveled food into his mouth. 

Hermione's stomach rumbled and she looked over to the nightstand and found a new tray of food waiting for her. She walked over to it and carried it to the chair opposite him. Draco gave her an irritated look. They ate in silence. 

She waited for him to speak when they’d finished. Setting her tray awkwardly on the table between them. He whipped out his wand and vanished both of their dishes. 

“You knew” he said finally, his voice calmer than she'd expected.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief at his tone. 

“Yes” she confessed. 

He stared at her, thinking. Making her nervous again. 

“I’m sorry I called Rux, I just didn’t know what else to do— I thought you were hurt and I panicked. Please don’t punish him” Hermione pleaded. 

“I don’t punish the elfs” he said quietly. 

She nodded. Running her fingers through her frizzy curls, sweeping it to one side. It was warm today and the thickness of her hair didn't help. Draco watched her quietly. 

Hermione wanted to ask why Voldemort had hurt him. Obviously something had gone wrong. But she decided against it, not wanting to cause another fight between them. 

“Erm, could we— get back to where we left off yesterday?” She asked. 

Draco smiled wickedly at her then, leaning back in his chair cooly. She rolled her eyes at him. 

“Be serious, please” she said, only mildly annoyed, and to her dismay - slightly hopeful. 

He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “Yesterday was— a lot.” He cleared his throat nervously before asking “where did you want to start?” 

“You said you needed my help in killing you-know-who, what makes you think you can do it” Hermione said, wanting to cut to the chase. 

“Well that’s where I was hoping you would help, I have a plan, part of a plan anyways.” He stopped and ran a nervous hand through his hair “The Order must be working on some way to do it. He’s— weakened. Something feels off about him now.” His tone was calm and steady. 

Hermione's eyes widened. She looked at him full on now, searching his face, looking for any hint at deceit. 

“I don’t know if I can trust you, Draco. Too much has happened. I can’t risk The Orders safety.” Hermione said firmly. 

She doubled down mentally, reinforcing her shields. Deep down she knew she wanted to tell him everything, to tell someone, anyone. To have someone to share the burden with. But there was too much at stake. Too many lives. 

“That’s fair—“ he said, his tone matching hers. “There are things I’m not ready to talk about either. Perhaps we can agree to keep some of our secrets.” 

This felt like a business meeting, like they were negotiating their terms in a partnership. 

“So we could help each other, with full awareness that the other is holding back or has ulterior motives. How can that work?” She asked, narrowing her eyes at him. 

“We both have the same main goal, I don’t see why it wouldn’t work.” He replied simply. 

But Hermione didn’t want simple. She wanted details, facts, she wanted clear rules and guidelines. If she was going to jump into the fire with Draco she needed to know what he was after. It hadn’t escaped her notice that he’d ignored the part about having ulterior motives. Hermione couldn’t help but feel that Draco had a hidden agenda that extended further than his own survival. 

“You’d risk your life for that goal, Malfoy?” She asked with a lifted brow. 

“I risk my life everyday, Granger” Draco replied, his eyes narrowing back to her. 

Hermione couldn’t back down. Not from this. It was her only stipulation. 

“The problem is I care about who I hurt in the process, Draco. I won’t sacrifice anyone else. I gave up my life years ago, I’ve made peace with dying. If we can’t find a way to do this without sparing as many people as possible then I can’t help you.” She looked away, ready for him to attack. 

“You think I don’t care about people dying? Think I enjoy watching my old schoolmates and friends die on the battlefield, my neighbors, my family. Think I like doing Voldemort’s bidding. Half of us have no choice!” He spat at her. 

“There is always a choice! You could’ve told anyone about Dumbledore! We would’ve helped you! And what about Snape?” Hermione spat back, her anger rising. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Granger” Draco said, his voice low again. 

“Just because you were ordered to kill, doesn’t excuse what you did!” Hermione said, unable to control her fury. 

“Are you telling me you don’t hold Potter or your precious Weaslebee accountable for the lives they’ve taken? Trust me, I’ve seen them in action. Their hands aren’t clean either.” His voice remained cool but his eyes were cruel and challenging. 

“That’s different— that was after. Because of the war—“ how could he even begin to compare her friends to his action or that of his fellow Death Eaters. Hermione was outraged. 

“It’s always been a war Hermione, the war never ended! You and your friends know that better than anyone! The Dark Lord's servants came for Potter as a first year for crying out loud. Don’t be so naive!” He was yelling at her now. 

Hermione stood, her anger bubbling over. 

“Oh I’m naive? That’s rich coming from you. You think _YOU_ can kill Voldemort after Harry, Ron and I have been trying for years! How ridiculous!” Hermione yelled back. Draco stood now too. Both their faces splotchy and reddened. 

“I have access to him! I report to him alone!” He said through gritted teeth. She could see him holding back his rage. 

That was definitely new information. That could work, Hermione thought. She took a deep breath and counted. 

“Merlin, you make my blood boil, Malfoy” She said, her voice normal again, her hands shaking. 

“Likewise, Granger” Draco said, rolling his shoulders. 

There wasn't much of a choice here, if this was a game she'd have to play along and hope she could find a way out. If she was going to put any kind of trust in Draco, she would need to keep her cool. She took deep breaths before speaking again.

“Ok, we have the same goal. You have opportunity and I know—“ she sighed, not willing to tell him everything just yet. “I know how to kill him.” She finished. 

Draco's eyes widened, a look of relief washing over his face. He hadn’t been sure if she actually possessed the knowledge to defeat him she realized. 

“You have to promise me that we will try to do this with as little casualties as possible.” Hermione said firmly. 

“We’ll try it your way first, I promise.” He replied with a look she wanted to believe was truly sincere. 

Hermione's shoulders relaxed at hearing his agreement. They both sat quietly for a while, deep in thought. 

“Do you want to talk about last night?” She asked hesitantly. 

“Actually, yes. I almost forgot. We’re meeting with Cisco Punocana in three days.” His hand was in his hair again. 

Hermione swallowed, taking a moment to absorb this, wanting to tread carefully. 

“You need Essence of Andes Lagoon” she asked knowingly. 

Draco nodded. 

Hermione told him about the potion and the complicated recipe, explaining that it was an incomplete memory. Draco confessed to having seen it already. Voldemort had given him a copy. Hermione deduced that he’d taken the details out of her mind, most of them. She couldn’t be sure. 

What Hermione didn’t tell him was that the potion was a distraction, a small part of a larger plan to lead Voldemort into a trap. She found it interesting that Voldemort had delegated the gathering of the ingredients for the potion. Draco had mentioned that Voldemort was weakened. Perhaps he was too weak to travel, although it didn’t appear that he was too weak to torture Draco. 

They spent the next hour going over Dracos plan. He let her interrupt him here and there, willing to answer every question. He was open to her ideas and hearing her out whenever she found a hole in his plan. They came up with alternate plans for every possible outcome. She listened intently to him surprised at how detailed his plans were in general, very well thought out. 

Cisco had been led to believe he was meeting with Hermione on behalf of The Order. Draco had been able to pass a coded message to him, the exchange was set to happen on a different remote island. Draco would pretend to be accompanying her disguised as a fellow Order member with the help of polyjuice potion. She picked at that part of the plan but he refused to talk about it in depth, saying he had it under control. 

Draco had done his research and found that the Peruvian Wizarding community had been affected by the war when they were forced to cut ties with the Weasleys. He’d found that certain goods were scarce due to Voldemort’s hold on most of Europe. Specifically certain magical metals, goblin mined metals. 

An assortment of Peruvian goods had been requested, Essence of Andes Lagoon among them, in exchange for the goblin mined metals. Draco had been careful not to focus on the one thing he needed most, adding the Essence of Andes Lagoon casually amongst the other goods, in case anything went wrong. He’d thought of just about everything.

Hermione’s only concern was the possibility of Cisco being tipped off somehow and questioning her loyalties. Draco assured her that her capture had never been mentioned in the Daily Prophet. It was a tactic Voldemort had long employed. People simply went missing, bodies turning up months or years later, sometimes never at all. 

After running through the plan several times, they returned to their main goal. Agreeing to temporarily table it. Voldemort was eager for progress and Draco had to deliver in order to stay alive. Hermione would need to assist Draco with the potion while working out the details to put Voldemort in the right time and place so he could be killed, properly this time. 

Having more information helped Hermione understand Draco’s standpoint a bit better. It also helped her decide how much he needed to know. She guessed they were both tip toeing around each other this way. Trying to discern just how much to divulge, it was a strange sort of mental dance. 

Snape was something they both avoided carefully, an unspoken agreement to not discuss it just yet. It couldn’t be avoided forever but having just agreed to work together they both had to trust each other at least for the time being. When the time came they’d both have their answers. 

By the end of the night if they were both exhausted. Taking turns in the bathroom as they prepared for bed, awkwardly saying goodnight as they crawled into their own beds at the same time for the very first time. 

They stared across at each other for a few moments, Hermione breaking first and closing her eyes momentarily. When she opened them again, Draco was asleep, his face relaxed. I got you into this, she thought. She hadn’t been able to hold on and Voldemort had found him. The truth of it cut deeper than she’d allowed herself to see. 

Draco may have been on the wrong side of the war but Hermione's secret had put him on a straight path to an early death. Killing Voldemort may be the main goal, but she would get Draco out too. I’ll come back for you, Hermione promised. 

~~~

They spent the next few days going over every step of the plan, combing over the details of various escape route options and potential questions that Cisco could pose. Draco gave Hermione the last few copies of the Daily Prophet and she ravenously consumed every last word. 

There was very little mentioned of The Order due to Voldemort’s continued influence. There were small snippets of information hidden in between the lines but not enough to have a good idea of what progress The Order had made or how they were doing. She knew not to expect any real news but was disheartened all the same. 

According to the papers The Order was responsible for all of the terrorist attacks and were labeled as undesirables. This was nothing new to Hermione, it’d been this way since the battle of Hogwarts. They’d been painted as rebels officially placing blame on The Order for the chaos and death spreading throughout Europe. 

The British Wizarding community and surrounding countries knew the truth. New members poured in during the first year or so but as Voldemort’s power spread and countries folded, the numbers dwindled. Harry had been pulled from battle, his face key in bringing in more support, he took on a more political role. Meeting with every Wizarding Government that was willing to listen. 

With Voldemort twisting the facts and corrupting the spread of information other countries held back, unsure of which side to extend its aid to or unwilling to take part altogether. 

Hermione set aside the paper, deeming it useless aside from forming a weak timeline of the current state of the war, enough to be able to converse with Cisco. 

Draco disappeared for hours at a time, always returning with a bit more information or new element for their plan. He was summoned daily and always returned visibly exhausted but hadn’t seemed hurt since the last time. Hermione could hardly focus when he left to report to Voldemort. Never sure what state he would return in or if he’d return at all. She told herself that it was because she was afraid of being deserted and nothing more. 

The day of the exchange Draco pried the newest copy of the Daily Prophet from her hands as she read it for a fourth time. 

“I need to try something” he told her, pulling her to a stand in front of him. 

“Ok, what” she said, crossing her arms. 

“Erm, put your hands down” he said nervously.

Her arms felt heavy and she dropped them to her aides without a fight. Draco brought the tip of his wand to her shoulders, touching the rough fabric of her rags ever so slightly. Hermione's eyes widened. 

He furrowed his brow as he slowly turned the wand counter clockwise and muttered a spell. A black stain formed where the wand touched the fabric, it quickly spread, as it reached the edges it slightly transformed the rags. The frayed edge of her neckline rounded and formed a proper collar and her bare shoulders had a slight sleeve, the base of the dress was even now with a thin hem. The mismatched materials and shabbiness remained but the black color helped hide its imperfections. Making it look like an odd fashion choice versus an impoverished last resort. 

“You have got to be kidding me” Hermione said, stretching out her arms to test the design. 

“I only thought of it last night. Mum does it to the elf’s during special events at the Manor. My understanding is that it wears off within a day.” He said, as his eyes roamed over her, studying his work. 

Draco then took her wrist and waved his wand again, a series of numbers appeared on her arm like a tattoo, the numbers shifted and a countdown began. She looked up at him confused. 

“Its for the portkey, I’ll have one as well. It will give us a 10 minute window” he explained. 

“I still don’t have shoes” She said, wiggling her toes. 

“I couldn’t find a way around that. I suppose we could pretend that you removed them on the boat. It may not seem so odd. I’ll take mine off as well” Draco said, his hand running through his hair. 

“That’ll definitely be odd, but not completely bizarre. I’m sure Cisco will chalk it up to it being a weird foreigner thing” Hermione said, hoping it would reassure him. He looked so stressed. 

It wasn’t meant to be a formal sort of sit down situation. The location was remote and could only be reached by boat. The only other people would be the native muggles. A small tribe that lived in man made islands. They would meet quickly and exchange goods, say a few words and be on their way. That was how they were hoping it would work anyway. 

If anything went wrong Draco had a portkey, a small perfume bottle tucked into Hermione's leather bag. They came up with signals in case Cisco said anything to Hermione that was suspicious, that hinted he knew of her predicament. If she felt something was wrong she would ask Draco for her shoes. If Draco sensed something off he would be the one to mention the shoes. 

There would be a variety of items in the delivery. Draco had a small suitcase that he’d used an undetectable extension charm to place all the items in. In the case that anything went wrong they both would try to at least grab a vial of the Essence of Andes Lagoon and leave the rest, including the Goblin metals. 

“We should go” Draco said, looking out over the lake as the sun began to set. 

He produced a large vial and a small pouch which he pulled several coppery hairs from and dropped them into the vial. The liquid bubbled and turned a bright yellow shade. Hermione watched him chug it, her face scrunching with his as she remembered the vile taste of poly juice potion. 

Draco shrunk a whole foot, his chest and shoulders expanded and his hair grew longer turning a coppery shade of red. She watched in horror as he transformed, stepping back as his features shifted into a familiar face, Charlie Weasley. 

“How— Charlie, is he a-live? Hermione’s entire body shook. 

Charlie had been missing for over a year. Molly had become obsessed with the family clock when Charlie’s hand hadn’t fallen, it remained at mortal peril for months. 

“Yes, I don’t know anything other than he’s being kept alive.”

Hermione nodded deciding she couldn’t deal with this information at that exact moment. She left the room to grab the leather bag while he summoned a water taxi. A straw boat slowly emerged from the lake, it was made entirely of thickly packed straw, each end curving dramatically to a point. Hermione watched as Charlie Weasley awkwardly stepped onto the boat with bare feet and held out a hand for her. 

The straw was softer than she’d imagined, the boat itself was incredibly sturdy she thought as she carefully walked its length. 

“This is amazing” she said, turning to see a green faced Charlie and reminded herself that it was Draco. 

“I’m not great on boats” he said, running his hand over his face. He looked ready to pass out. 

Hermione reached into the leather bag, carefully avoiding the perfume bottle and handed Draco a vial of calming draught. He downed it quickly and waved his wand. The boat began to move, increasing its speed until they were steadily moving across the lake. It was stunning, the sun was setting now, bright pinks fading into orange reflecting on the lake's cerulean water. 

In another life this would have been a dream. Something she would have enjoyed experiencing for fun, she thought. Hermione pushed away any negative thoughts, shoving them way down, until only the mission remained clear in her mind. 

After about an hour the boat began to slow, on the distance Hermione could see small floating structures made of straw, a few people walked about wearing large round straw hats and brightly colored clothes, almost fluorescent. 

She turned to Draco and found him bracing the edge of the boat, blinking rapidly, a queasy look on his face. 

“Are you going to be all right” Hermione asked nervously. In any other situation this would’ve been comical but right now she needed Draco to be alert and he looked like he was about to faint. 

“I’m fine, Granger. It’ll pass” he gritted out. 

Hermione fingered the hem of her rags, deep in thought. Draco hadn’t told her about his motion sickness, or about Charlie. She would yell at him later for it she decided. Hermione could only hope she could use Dracos condition to speed up the process and keep the meeting short. 

As they neared the edge of an island Hermione recognized Cisco on one of the water taxis near a dock. He was a short, dark skinned man with thick rimmed glasses, he wore a colorful hat called a chullo with bright green tassel hanging from the sides. He’d worn the same hat years ago at Bill and Fleurs wedding, a matching knitted bag strapped across his chest. 

Cisco smiled brightly at her as they neared and Hermione couldn’t help but return it. It was warm and genuine and reminded her of a time before war, of another life. 

“Miss Granger, I was so happy to hear from you, so long it’s been.” He said in a thick accent. 

“It has, so much has changed, as you know.” Hermione said, her voice a little more nervous than she had expected. She counted in her head, locking away her emotions. 

“My friend Charlie, he’s not so good on boats I’m afraid” she gave a weak chuckle as she looked back to Draco. His face was pale or Charlie’s face was, sweat dripped down his temple. 

“How unfortunate” Cisco said, eyeing out Draco momentarily before turning his attention back to Hermione. “Miss Granger, I have what you asked for” Cisco said quickly, he turned to the side and gestured towards a large crate at the other end of his boat. “I’ll need your help, to carry it over”

Hermione looked at the crate which was about the size of a small refrigerator and turned to Draco, he nodded. 

“Charlie should be able to carry it” Hermione assured him. 

“We cannot use magic, there are natives close by, Miss Granger. If you come aboard we can lift it together.” Cisco insisted, stepping back slightly and offering his arm to guide her onto the boat. 

Hermione felt a little nervous, something was off, Cisco hadn’t said anything out of the norm but she had this strange feeling. The hair on her arms prickled. She was about to mention her shoes when she felt Draco behind her, his hand on her back guiding her. Hermione reached out for Cisco’s hand and he pulled her over, Draco followed quickly behind her. 

Steadying herself for a moment she realized her rags were changing color, the dingy off white color slowly spreading up. Hermione gasped and Cisco’s hand tightened on her wrist. 

“STUPEFY!” Draco yelled out and Cisco dropped. 

Hermione turned to see Draco looking like himself again. The boat was enchanted she realized, it had reversed their concealment charms. Draco moved past her, towards the crate, blasting the lock off the top and digging through its contents. 

“I’ve got it” he said, turning to her with a small wooden box in hand. 

“HERMIONE!” A familiar voice bellowed from somewhere in distance, it was Ron. 

Draco dodged a stinging jinx and turned to grab her by the arm pulling her back onto their boat. Hermione was frozen, too stunned to do anything. 

“Keep it together, Granger!” Draco called out as the boat began to move. 

Ron, Harry and Neville appeared at the edge of the lake, jumping onto Cisco’s boat and pursuing them. More familiar faces appeared beyond them, also jumping onto nearby water taxis. 

“Harry will help us, Draco. We have to stop” she pleaded. 

“I can’t, my parents— they’ll be killed” Draco said tightly, the boat speeding faster and faster. 

Hermione stumbled as the boat whipped across the water, she gripped the edge to keep her balance. 

“I can talk to them, we can get your parents out. I promise!” She yelled out over the sound of the boat ripping through the water. 

“If we don’t do this, we may never have another chance!” He yelled back. 

“There may be another way” Hermione yelled, hoping he’d listen. 

Harry and the rest of the order were catching up now, jinxes were flying closer, too close. A fire spell hit the side of the boat, the straw catching it fast, in minutes almost half the boat was in flames. Draco veered the boat left and right with dizzying precision, turning the boat back towards the natives. 

“No, you promised!” She screamed, gripping his arm. 

He was taking them towards the Peruvian muggles, endangering their lives. 

“Im not the one throwing hexes, Granger. Can you say the same of your friends?” He barked back at her. 

Hermione knew that Harry wouldn’t cast any life threatening spells, Ron was a different story, he’d burn the whole country down for her. 

“We need to get to land to use the portkey, five minutes!” he yelled out. 

The boat propelled through a small canal ran between two smaller islands. Hermione braced herself as Draco brought it towards the island, trying to get them onto land. They were mid air momentarily, Hermione clung to Draco as the motion threatened to knock them both off. They landed violently, their bodies catapulted onto the ground, the boat shredding into a million flaming pieces. 

The hem of her dress caught fire and she screamed. Draco quickly waved his wand and the fire ceased but the her skin bubbled painfully. 

“The bag, where is it?” He asked, searching the ground around her frantically. 

Another jinx flew at them, a streak of yellow sizzling through the air that barely missed Dracos fingers. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back towards the natives' huts as more jinxes flew at them, Harry and Ron’s Boat came into view. They passed several chunks of burning straw and Hermione spotted the leather bag. 

“Draco, the bag” she yelled, trying to free herself from his grasp. 

He pulled her inside one of huts and cast a protective enchantment. 

“Granger, we don’t have time” he said, pulling out a vial of dittany and squeezing it onto the burned skin of her thigh. Hermione looked at her time piece, they had a three minutes. 

“Draco, the bag is right outside the door. I can get it.” She explained in between breaths as he examined her burns. 

“No” he said, letting go of her leg and leaning heavily against the huts wall beside her. He was hurt. 

“Where, show me” Hermione asked, frantically searching him. 

Draco grabbed her hands, stopping her, squeezing them tightly before abruptly letting them go. 

“Just go, leave!” He yelled, his eyes closing as he faced the wall, his face twisting with pain. 

“No, come with me. We'll get your parents out too. I can-” Hermione pleaded. 

“If I die, you’re free” Draco confessed, his voice tight. 

Hermione could hear Ron and Harry’s voices calling out for her, they were very close now. She stepped away from Draco and his eyes opened watching as she walked towards the door. 

“GO!” he yelled again. 

Hermione bolted to the door, small fires littered the ground. Harry’s voice boomed in the distance. 

“I SEE HER!” Harry yelled out, his voice nearing. 

Hermione frantically searched the ground. She was sure she’d seen the bag as Draco pulled her across the ground. She heard her name again as Harry neared the boundary of the protective barrier, Ron followed close behind. They both began casting counterspells and the barrier shimmered. It would weaken and break within minutes. 

“STOP!” She yelled out at them, her hands up in the air. Her timepiece showed one minute left. 

Harry froze and stared back at her with confusion. Ron threw more counter curses at the barrier as more members of The Order approached. 

Hermione spotted the black leather bag just near the barrier a few feet from Harry and ran towards it. She grabbed it and clutched it to her chest, looking up as Harry watched her urging her with a motion of his hands. Protective barriers are meant to keep people out but the ones inside it can leave at will. Hermione could cross, it was just a few steps. 

She looked at Harry without moving. He yelled her name, the sound of it muffled by the barrier. 

“TRUST ME!” She yelled out at Harry’s puzzled face. 

Hermione turned and ran back to the hut calling out for Draco. He came into view slumping in the doorway and she ripped open the bag, grasping his arm and pushing his hand inside it with her, their fingers closing around the perfume bottle together. She looked back as their fiery surroundings began to twist and distort, Harry's stunned face vanishing along with the smoke.

~~~


	10. TEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little smut, just a taste ;)
> 
> this is my first time writing anything like that so... yeah.

~~~

They land on frozen stone, snow flurries all around them, Hermione felt a chill spread deep into her bones. Draco groans in pain, clutching at his arm. She lifts his robes and shirt with shivering fingers revealing a sickly black gash across his shoulder, it’s swelling and oozing a bluish colored puss, angry red veins stretching outwards. 

“RUX!” Hermione cries out, seconds pass before she hears that familiar CRACK!

“Help him, I don’t care what you've been ordered. HELP HIM!” Hermione screams. 

The elf quickly shuffles around to Draco, placing a hand over the wound, a few seconds pass and the elf’s eyes grow wide. 

“Rux gets help” he squeaks and vanishes. 

Hermione shivers as she kneels next to Draco, his eyes are closed, lips parted as he takes low shallow breaths, his body twitching slightly. He moans incoherently a couple of times. Hermione squeezes her eyes shut, praying that Rux would return soon. Several minutes pass and she begins to panic. 

CRACK!

Two elves appear, Rux and a shorter elf. Hermione squints her eyes, recognizing the second elf, the one who had saved her all those weeks ago. Questions began to form but she’s quickly distracted by their movements. 

Rux snaps his fingers and the snowflakes freeze midair, the atmosphere warming steadily. The second elf unstoppers several vials and begins feeding them to Draco, much like it had done with her all those weeks ago. Draco sputters and spits out some of the liquids. Hermione reaches over to hold his head still, watching the elf with a mixture of gratitude and disbelief. 

When he’s stable the elves levitate him towards large wooden double doors and Hermione realizes she hadn’t taken in their surroundings. They were in a large cabin surrounded by snowy mountains. The door swings open revealing oversized wood furnishings and dark textiles, they step over a bearskin rug. The decor is odd, a strange take on outdoor ruggedness. 

Draco floats over to a massive bed made out of logs, it’s clunky and overbearing. Rux has to climb up by pulling on the sheets to be able to treat Draco properly. Hermione stands at the door and watches them work too stunned to move. They strip Draco down to his underwear and she looks away quickly. 

When she hears the pitter patter of feet on the ground she finally dares to look again and finds Rux standing before her, a small tin in his hand. 

“Master Draco must drink with tea, l morning and night. Must not move him” He croaks and pushes the tin at her. 

Hermione nods, taking the tin and thanks him. Rux bobs his head without scrunching his face this time and shuffles away. She turns to the other elf and their eyes meet for the first time. 

CRACK!

Her questions will have to wait. Climbing onto the bed she carefully observes Draco, he’s sweating profusely but looks loads better. The wound on his arm is no longer black or oozing, it's thinner and closing but she could tell it will scar. There was a slight pink tone surrounding it but the red veins have mostly disappeared. She lets out a deep sigh of relief, allowing tears to form and fall.

Hermione left her friends behind, her best friends, friends who’d do anything for her and she for them. They’d come for her and she’d chosen Draco. If she hadn’t he would’ve died, she told herself. But Hermione knew that it hadn’t mattered that he was hurt. She would’ve come back regardless. It tore at her, it felt like a betrayal not only to her friends, The Order and everything that Harry stood for but to herself. 

Still, being here with him, watching him take even breaths and the color return to his face. Nothing could compare. She couldn’t have left him, never. Hermione decided not to question it anymore, the choice had been made long ago. She lays beside him with a couple of feet between them, not wanting to disturb him in any way, watching his chest rise and fall until she falls asleep.

Hours later she wakes with a start, and finds that the room is dark. Draco moans in his sleep, mumbling something she can’t quite make out. She jumps out of bed, he needs the tea, morning and night was what Rux had said. She recalls there being a candle on the nightstand but without a wand she can’t light it. Deciding she has no choice she blindly digs at the neat stack of clothes the elves removed, finding the wand tucked into the lining of his cloak, it slips out and rolls on the ground. Hermione drops to her knees and feels around for it, her fingers burn on contact and the rags constrict around her throat, she jumps away from it clutching at her neck. Draco moans again and frustration rolls over her. 

“Rux!”

CRACK!

“I need matches or something to start a fire, just for candles and food, please” Hermione pleads. 

The elf disappears for a few minutes and reappears with a box of matches, handing it to her. 

“Thank you, Rux.” 

CRACK!

She lights the candle and carefully makes her way through the house finding a large open living room with a small kitchen. There is a kettle on the stove top already and she hugs it to her chest with relief before quickly filling the kettle and setting it to boil. She searches the cabinets for a cup and saucer and when the water is ready she opens the tin and finds a dozen dried Molly flowers. The flower has powerful healing benefits, while most injuries heal just fine with Dittany, Molly is used for treating wounds caused by dark magic. She inhales sharply realizing that either Neville or Ron had thrown a deadly hex at Draco, they used dark magic. She closes her eyes at the thought. 

Draco had been right, they would’ve killed him. Hermione would never have had the chance to explain anything. Not wanting her emotions to overtake her she reigns in her shields tightly in place. She takes a single Molly flower and drops it into the cup of tea before making her way back into the bedroom. 

Getting Draco to take it is nearly impossible and she almost calls for Rux again. He’s barely lucid and insistent that she leave him, Hermione has to fight the enchantment of the rags, the need to bolt out of the room is overwhelming forcing her to punch one of the logs on the headboard and causing her knuckles to bleed in order to satisfy it. 

Eventually he calms and sips the tea weakly. His good arm wraps around her waist as she holds him up. When he's drunk all of it she sets his head down and puts the cup on the nightstand and begins to unwind his arm from her hip but he pulls her closer. 

“Don’t le—leave me. Stay here.” He says weakly. 

Hermione doesn’t fight the urge to obey this time. She lays her head on his chest, feeling him breathe deeper than before. The wound has almost completely closed now and the pink coloring has faded even more. Her hand lays flat on his taut stomach, the silvery scar from sixth year slightly raised, it twists vertically across his stomach and up his chest. Hermione traces it back and forth, admiring his form. 

Draco is so very pale, his skin like porcelain. He’s long and lithe and toned, muscles clearly defined beneath the scar. Hermione feels a little guilty for enjoying him this way, seeing and touching so much of him, she forces her hand to still. Laying it flat again. 

The next few days pass like this. Hermione leaves him only when necessary, quickly returning to his side. She doesn’t bother to inspect the house, doesn’t want to risk him waking up alone. He also unknowingly ordered her to stay by him and she’s had to punch something or dip her finger into the boiling water to appease the rags whenever she steps away. Its demand for pain increases each time she defies his orders, her hands are in bad shape. 

She’s making her way back to him with a freshly brewed cup of tea when she finds him sitting up in bed. Hermione is caught off guard and nearly drops the cup and saucer. 

“Granger” he says weakly, his hands at his temples. 

“You have to take this” she squeaks, setting down the plate and bringing the cup to his lips. 

“What the bloody hell is wrong with your hands?” He asks, pushing away the tea. 

“It’s nothing, you have to take this, in the morning and before bed” she explains. 

Draco takes her hands, setting down the tea on the nightstand and picking up his wand. He flicks his wand and begins muttering healing spells

“These are fresh” he says, wide eyed. 

“I had to leave you, to get tea and to— use the loo” she whispers. 

Draco gives her a confused look as he Accio’s a bottle of Dittany. 

“You did this to yourself! Why?” He demands. 

“You erm, well you told me not to leave your side—“ a look of horror spreads across his face. “You weren’t lucid, you didn’t know what you were saying!” She explains, panic rising as his eyes rage with fury. 

He squeezes a few drops of Dittany all over her hands then he reaches beneath and examines her leg, where she’d been burned. He looks up at her then, meeting her stare. 

“You’re a bloody idiot, you know.” He spats at her. His breaths are harsh and she feels him tense beside her.

“Stop it” Hermione pleads 

“What did he put in your head that has you so deluded?”

She stares at him with genuine confusion. Who put what in her head?

“Draco—“ Hermione doesn’t understand what he was saying. She is almost sure it's because of his injury. He must still be confused or something. 

“GET OUT! GO TO YOUR ROOM! GO!” He bellows at her, his face contorted with rage. 

Hermione’s body moves as if she is on autopilot, too overwhelmed to fight it. She finds herself at his doorway before she stops. Anger rises up inside her, tears form and fall and she hates herself for it. 

“I DON’T BLOODY KNOW WHERE MY ROOM IS!” She screams back. 

Draco waves his wand and the door slams in her face. 

She grabs a nearby vase and tosses it against the wall, watching it break into a million pieces. Hermione has the urge to destroy everything, to set the house aflame, she feels so out of control. She grabs her head with her hands, steadying herself, counting. 

The guilty feeling pulls at her and she follows. Walking past Dracos room and opening every door until she finds one that makes that terrible feeling subside. The room is different from the rest of the house, less bulky and very feminine. A medium sized wrought iron bed with soft pink linens sits in the middle, a small white nightstand beside it. A large black armoire sits between two doors she can only assume will lead to a closet and bathroom. She turns to the opposite end and spots a large rounded pink chair tucked into a corner next to a bookshelf, with books— oh! 

Her rage evaporates at the sight. Books, it’s been so long, she could cry all over again. Rushing to the shelf, she drops beside it and begins pulling out several, most are familiar but a few she doesn't recognize, new worlds waiting to be discovered. Time is irrelevant until her stomach grumbles for the tenth time and she forces herself to put down the book she’s submerged into and step out of the room to get to the kitchen. That dreadful feeling overcomes her again as soon as steps out, he hadn’t thought about feeding her when he ordered her to stay in her room and it makes her furious. 

She grabs some fruit and water before heading back. Hermione stills at his door before deciding to open it, her fury rising up again. She twists the handle and kicks the door open, unable to step past the doorway. Draco sits on the edge of the bed and stares at her with cold eyes as he starts lifting his wand. Hermione raises a hand up to stop him. 

“Tell me I can leave my room so that I can get food without hurting myself.” She demands.

“Fine, you can leave your room” he grits out, his wand still lifted. 

“You better drink that tea or I’ll set myself on fire to come in here” she spats at him, shooting him a furious look. 

Draco slams the door in her face again. 

Bloody idiot, she thinks as she returns to her room. Hermione sits in her oversized chair and pulls open a book she's sure she’s read many times before but has lost the memory of its plot making it feel like new again. She angrily bites into an apple as she reads, annoyed that she has to continuously push Draco out of her mind. Whenever she lets her mind wander it flips directly to him and her thoughts race, a thousand question form. 

Was that second elf a Malfoy elf? Had the Malfoy's sent the elf? Did Draco send it? Did Voldemort know it was sent, was it sent on Voldemort’s orders? 

Did he have the Essence of Andes Lagoon still or had it all been for nothing? Where was Charlie? Where were they? Why were they here? Why was he so bloody mad at her? What was that whole bit about her being deluded? 

Hermione snaps the book closed, unable to get lost in its contents. Instead she closes her eyes and practices Occlumency, stepping into that familiar trance. She needs to tuck away the memories of the past few days to protect the both of them, in case Voldemort summons her, the thought makes her shiver. 

She spends the next couple of days practicing Occlumency, training again and devouring entire novels in one sitting. Only leaving the room to get food and water, which is precisely what she’s doing when she finds Draco in the kitchen, pouring tea. They had mysteriously not crossed paths before now and she’s momentarily taken back but recovers quickly. She eyes the small tin with the lid removed, a single Molly flower set aside. 

Her eyes linger on the tin briefly, momentarily satisfied before walking around the kitchen island to a large basket of fruit. It’s constantly refilled somehow, probably by an elf although she’s never seen one again since the day they arrived. Hermione plucks a half dozen grapes and takes an apple, feeling Draco’s eyes on her and ignoring him. 

“Is that all you’ve been eating?” Draco asks in an irritated tone. 

Hermione ignores him, opening a cupboard and grabbing a glass to fill with water. 

“That’s not enough, you are skin and bones” He says, his tone a little lighter. 

“Bugger off” she snaps as she fills her glass and turns to leave. She was tired of the games and the mood swings. 

“You have to eat better food than that” He snaps back. 

Hermione drops the fruit on the counter, her fingers flex and she will herself to grab it again, but her hands are stiff and her wrists ache, she gasps pulling her hands back. 

“That’s not how I meant—“ Draco starts to say but she cuts him. 

“I SAID FUCK OFF!” She screams storming out of the kitchen without her fruit or water. 

“Granger, you can eat whatever you want! That’s not what I meant. You are skin and bones” he keeps talking behind her as she breezes through the hallway.

“Oh you’re SO concerned?” She says mockingly, flailing her arms with outrage and picking up her pace. 

She rounds the corner and marches into her room, he follows. Hermione pushes at the door trying to close it on him but fails miserably. 

“Leave me alone” she huffs, straining against the door. 

“Granger, you’re being ridiculous” He says quietly, standing in the doorway. Watching her struggle. 

“You, are a bloody, giant— get out” she grunts, her feet sliding on the hardwood floors. 

“I can make you stop, you know” he taunts and her efforts come to a halt. 

“You can make me? Yes, you can make me do anything can’t you! Anything you want! I’m a bloody fool for staying, for coming back. What do you want, Draco! Stay at your side while you’re delirious or leave you to die in a hut —“ he started to speak but she continued. “Should I have left you the way you leave me behind, trapped in your fancy cell, left behind to starve and die alone? You must like the idea of me being so helpless.” He looks away then, something like shame washing over his features. 

Hermione continues to rage at him “What did you call it, deluded? Yes, clearly I am because I bloody chose you didn’t I? I saved you! I left my friends, my freedom behind for you!” She finishes, inhaling deeply, her breathing erratic, her chest tightening. 

“Granger, ple—“ he reaches for her and she flinches away. 

“Get the fuck away from me!” She shrieks at him, gripping her chest. 

Hermione backs into a corner and counts. Taking in deep breaths. This was a mistake, all of it, she thinks. It was the first time the thought had crossed her mind, the first time she’d felt regret over her decision and it hurt so much. Tears well and spill. 

Draco is at her side now, murmuring reassurances without touching her. 

“I made a mistake, oh god, what did I do?” She sobs. 

He wraps his arms around her now, holding her, rocking her body gently. Hermione sags and cries into his chest. 

“I came back for you.” She whispers. 

“I know, I’m sorry” he says, hugging her tightly.

They stay that way for a while, until she calms. He touches her face, lifting her chin and she closes her eyes and looks away. Her face is a mess and she doesn’t want to look at him right now. 

“Granger” his voice is quiet but firm. 

“Mhm” is all she gives him, her eyes focused somewhere behind him. 

“I want to give you something” he says nervously. 

“Draco, I have questions” she replies as she brings herself back to the present, where she’s in her room, in his arms and not miles away lost in her thoughts. 

“Granger, I’m trying to do something here. Try to pay attention” he sighs, in a mildly annoyed tone. 

He stands and stretches a hand to her, pulling her to her feet, and flicking his wand. A medium sized suitcase appears and floats to him. He hands it to her, face blank, eyes cold and hard. Hermione hesitantly accepts it, holding it in her hands dumbfounded. 

“Open it” 

Hermione brings it to the bed and flips the latches, looking at him briefly before lifting the lid to reveal two neat stacks of clothing— clothes! She lifts the top layer and unfolds a set of periwinkle silk pajamas with silver details around the collar and sleeves, very similar to Draco’s. Beneath it, she finds a couple of jumpers, t-shirts, jeans, a pair of trainers. Her hands skim over the various fabrics and still as they find delicate lace, several fancy lace knickers with matching bras are carefully folded at the bottom. Her face burns at the thought of Draco picking out her knickers. 

“Mother put it together” he explains knowingly and the heat from cheeks eases. 

New tears form, tears of joy this time and she pushes them down with a shake of her head. Draco starts to cross the room. She holds out her hand, stopping him. He nods. 

Hermione starts to lift the rags in her eagerness and then catches herself, her face heats all over again and she quickly runs into the bathroom adjacent to her room. 

As soon as the door closes behind her Hermione tears at the rags, lifting it over her head without resistance. She grabs at her exposed neck, the rags hadn’t been uncomfortable per say but it was such a relief to feel her neck free of them. The same tears form again and she allows them to fall, crying silently. 

She wasn’t sure she understood how things had turned around in her favor. It made her feel something she’d almost forgotten existed, something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in a long time, hope. 

Her parents were alive, Draco was helping her and she wasn’t a slave anymore. 

Hermione unties her makeshift knickers and tosses them into the wastebasket, later she might ask Draco to make a fire so she can burn it. She takes the pajama set and steps into the bottoms, they were a bit loose. Hermione ignores it and pulls the top over her head without bothering to undo and redo the buttons. The top was baggier than the bottoms she realizes frowning at her reflection. 

She stares at herself for a moment, the pajamas somewhat clung to her bony body. Without a bra her nipples peek through a bit but thankfully the bagginess meant that the collar hung low and helped mask it. She traces the silver detailing on the collar, they matched Dracos. She hates that this made her giddy, but it did. Rolling her eyes at her reflection she decides to find Draco, they need to form a plan together.

She leaves the bathroom and enters the room again, finding it empty, he’s not in his room either. Hermione searches the house and spots him through a sliding glass door, standing barefoot on the snowy deck. A part of her wants to run to him, to hug him and thank him and— stop, she tells herself. 

Hermione walks up to the doorway and leans against the glass. A chilly breeze greets her, she looks out towards where Draco stands and then beyond him at the crisp white snow that blankets the ground and the snowy mountains in the distance. It’s quiet and peaceful, serene even. 

He turns to face her then, his eyes darkening as he takes her in, in a few long strides he’s face to face with her. 

“Erm, thank you” Hermione says, trying to look anywhere but his face. Unfortunately that means she’s looking at his broad shoulders, his chest, his arms, hands. Hermione chews the inside of her lip nervously. 

Draco is very still, his face inches away from her, she can feel his eyes boring into her. She looks up finally, giving in, meeting his dark stare. 

“You’re making me nervous, Draco” she whispers. 

“I thought I made your blood boil?” He teases, his voice low and dark. 

“Well, that too” she says, smiling. 

“Granger?” He says, his face an inch closer now. 

“Mmm?”, she answers distracted by his closeness, by the way his eyes keep fluttering down to her lips and back. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks in a whisper, his breath on her lips. 

Hermione stands on her toes, closing the distance between them, pulling his bottom lip gently between hers before slipping her tongue against his. They come together slowly, tentatively, tasting each other. Draco grips her hip with one hand, the other above her head against the glass door. She can feel him holding back, his body tense against her, she opens her eyes to find his tightly closed. Hermione slips her hands over the silk of his pajama shirt, feeling the subtle ribbons of his scar underneath as she moves towards his neck. 

Draco growls against her lips and it hits her low, his eyes are on her now. Feeling bold she nips at his chin and begins pulling at the buttons, one by one. He takes her lips again and pulls her against him, turning them so she’s pressed against the glass, she shivers. 

As the final button comes undone Hermione's hand stills at his navel, his creamy white skin flushing, the muscles in his abdomen flexing with every breath. Her eyes travel downwards following the trail of golden below his navel to his hips and the drawstring bottoms that hang low on them, his erection clearly imprinted through the silky material. She looks up at him, meeting his hungry stare. 

Draco reaches for her then, his fingers pulling at the buttons of her top just as she had done only with less patience. His mouth becomes more demanding, pulling at her lips and tongue, taking it whole and sucking it slowly. The sensation makes her whimper and gasp and want to do it back, he lets her, offering his tongue and then pulling it back devilishly with teasing flicks. He smiles wickedly and she feels herself become slick, she pulses. 

Pushing aside the opening to her top he runs his free hand across her stomach, making her suck in her breath and pant. Draco breaks their kiss to stare down at her bare chest. His finger skimming over her ribs and up between her breasts, she pants as his fingers spread beneath them, pressing her back against the glass. Hermione closes her eyes in anticipation. 

Draco drops his head closing his lips around one of her breasts, his mouth hot as his tongue swirls around a stiff nipple. He lifts her, both his hands reaching down around her and squeezing her arse. Hermione wraps her legs around his waist as his mouth moves to her other breast. 

“Gods” she moans. “Please don’t stop” her legs spread wider allowing him to press against her just right. Hermione feels how hard he is right against her clit, she rolls her hips down a little to rub against it and they both gasp, a jolt vibrates through her as they make contact. 

Draco drops back to her breast taking her nipple in his mouth once more, rolling it between his lips, he uses one arm to hold her arse firmly and with the other he plucks at her other nipple teasing her. Hermione rocks against him, her hands fisting into his hair as his mouth switches back and forth between her breasts.

They felt so heavy in his hands and mouth, more sensitive than ever, every flick and swirl creates a delicious pulse between her legs that spreads to every nerve ending. The lace panties she's wearing slip and slide with her arousal and she whimpers at the realization, thinking she should be mortified of him seeing it but she’s too far gone to truly care. Nothing matters except the way his mouth feels on her skin and the friction between her legs. 

His presses his hips against her knowingly and she squeezes her thighs holding him there. Hermione mumbles incoherently, tossing her head back, something building to an impossible height. It was too much, she can’t handle it.

“Fuck, Granger, are you going to come just like this?” He hisses, his hips jerking against her faster and faster. 

“Don’t stop— Draco!” She pants, as her thighs clench, her hands spread behind her against the glass and she screams. 

“Fuck, fuck” Draco says, his hips still thrusting against her as she falls apart around him. He follows right behind her, his fingers digging into her skin as his whole body shudders. 

Hermione sags against the glass, feeling amazed at how good she felt. An odd feeling rises inside her and she laughs, It’s was a light, exasperated sound. 

“Merlin, that was— wow” she says after a few moments, her breath still harsh. 

“I didn’t mean— I wanted that to go differently.” Draco says into her neck, still pressed against her tightly. 

Hermione touches his forehead, pushing back a few stray strands of hair. 

“That was amazing” she whispers, her eyes meeting his as she kisses him softly. 

She unwraps her legs and he steps away a little, setting her down, his arms still around her. Hermione wasn’t ready to let go of him but she knew they had to talk. Too much had happened and she needed to know where they stood in regards to the plan. Breaking their kiss with a small groan she moves away from him fully. 

“We need to talk” she states, buttoning her top again. “I need to erm— I’m sure you— “ she says staring at the wet spot on his bottoms. “can we take a moment before we sit down?” There were so many thoughts running through her mind and also something she hadn’t considered before, a nagging thought. It was agitating her and she felt like she needed a moment to collect herself again.

Draco nods and she turns away, walking back to her room. 

Hermione quickly grabs a new pair of knickers, jeans and jumper and begins to change. Her rumpled silky bottoms lay on the ground and she notices a wet spot of her own in the inseam, she flushes at the thought.

She’d never come with anyone else, had never done anything like this with anyone else, it was something she avoided thinking too much of, she was a virgin. In any other setting she supposed she would have felt embarrassed about it. But there simply hadn’t been any opportunity she told herself. They were in the middle of the war, the dating pool was minute. There was no room for it. 

Yet Harry had Ginny, Luna had Neville and Ron— well he had anyone who gave him a second look to distract himself from his longing for Viktor. Hermione had been too busy, too distracted by her training and completely unwilling to allow herself to be used as a means to escape their reality. That’s how she viewed all of the other single members of The Order, jumping into one another’s bed at the end of a stressful, bloody and heartbreaking day, rubbing up against one another for a few minutes in order to temporarily forget about the nightmare they were living. 

Hermione had wanted more, needed more. She’d been propositioned many times over the years, always using Ron as a deterrent although the more reckless he became in his dalliances the less believable it had been. 

She laid back on the bed thinking about what she’d just done with Draco, and everything they hadn’t. Hermione wasn’t sure if she should tell him, it didn’t seem important. There was so much more to think about, to unfold and dissect, she didn’t know where to start. 

Draco had set her free. That must mean he trusts her. Could she trust him back, wondered. She wanted to, desperately. 

Would he tell her everything now? 

A soft knock at her door had her sitting up. Draco entered and gave her a small smile, his hand running through his hair. He was nervous. He’d changed too, sporting a different set of silky pajamas in a forest green shade. 

“I got tired of waiting” he says, shrugging his shoulders and crossing into the room. He sits on the bed next to her, eyeing her jeans hungrily, his gaze traveling up to her jumper. 

“We can’t talk if you keep looking at me like that” Hermione whispers, biting her lips together. 

He grits his teeth and lays back, his arm over his face. 

“Fine, you talk first, I’m just going to try to relax” he says exhaling deeply. 

Hermione was very tempted to tease him a bit, he was so affected and it thrilled her. She let go of the idea, pulling herself together and organizing her thoughts. 

“Well there really isn’t a solid place to start. It’s all a disaster, isn’t it. But I’m finding I’m ok with where things are at now— that is to say, being free not about us or whatever where doing—that’s ok too, more than ok.” Oh god, please move on, she pleads with herself. “Draco, I— I want to tell you so much but I’m scared“ she stops abruptly realizing she was rambling and covers her face as well, letting her body slump beside his.

“Do you have the Essence of Andes Lagoon?” She says, trying to recover from her verbal diarrhea. 

“There’s a lot I want to tell you too” Draco replies. “And yes, I have it.”

Hermione sits up again, she hadn’t realized just how stressed she’d been about it. Wanting their near death experience to be worth it, that it wouldn’t result in either of their deaths at the hands of Voldemort. 

She sits on her knees facing him. His upper body stretched out before her, knees bent at the edge of the bed, one arm covering his face. Hermione leans over and pulls his arm down, wanting to see his eyes. 

“Can you promise not to lie to me” she asks. 

He thinks about it for a few moments, his eyes intense on her face, searching. 

“I don’t know” he says and it’s painfully honest. 

“What if we let each other know if a topic is off limits, instead of lying, we move on” she offers. 

“We can try that, sure” he says, his face serious now as he watches her. 

“You really don’t know where Charlie is?” Hermione asks. 

His eyes narrow at her momentarily before answering. 

“I have my suspicions, the Dark Lord tasked Dolohov with a Dragon Breeding project about a year or so ago. My father and I were overseeing an exchange at breeding grounds and saw Charlie Weasley the day he was captured. When I reported to the dark lord with my plan to use your connection to the Peruvian Wizarding Government it was his idea that I go as the Weasley bloke.”

“Dragons” Hermione gasps wide eyed. Voldemort breeding dragons for battle was monstrous. She wonders if the Order knows, this would certainly get other countries to join forces with them, Voldemort was breaking some of the oldest International secrecy laws. Panic rises as she thinks about the level of devastation Voldemort could cause with battle trained dragons, he could wipe out entire cities. 

“They won’t kill him, he’s too valuable right now” Draco offers, trying to comfort her. 

Hermione pushes her emotions down and questions of Charlie away. She can’t allow those thoughts to overwhelm her. 

“Where are we?” She asks. 

“China, Jade Dragon Mountains”

“For the next ingredient” she concludes, already knowing what they’d be collecting. 

“Chinese Fireball eggshells, The Dark Lord wants the egg intact. It’s been difficult to arrange an exchange through the black market in London. Coming here is the most direct option.” Draco explains. 

“When” she asks. 

“A month from now, we missed the original meeting because of my injuries. The Dark Lord was upset by the delay but was too distracted to do anything more about it” he says, staring at the ceiling. 

He meant Voldemort too distracted to torture him for it. 

“Distracted?” she asks.

“Something is wrong with him, he’s not leaving the main safe house anymore. Nobody aside from Aunt Bellatrix sees him. Those of us with important tasks meet with him briefly and always alone. He’s increasingly paranoid, killing anyone he’s suspicious of.” He explains, running a hand over his face, his body tense. Draco was scared. 

Hermione thinks back to when they broke out of Gringotts on the back of a dragon. Harry had a vision, a connection into Voldemort’s mind, he’d said Voldemort seemed wounded and that he felt more dangerous. 

She wonders if Harry and Ron have been able to kill another Horcrux. Two remained, they’d gone into Hogwarts looking for one of them, Rowena Ravenclaw had told Harry where to find it. They’d gone into the room where everything was hidden, searching for it and came across Draco, Crabbe and Blaize— wait. 

“Draco, that day at the battle of Hogwarts, why were you in the room of requirement?” She asks, hoping he’d answer without pushing for more. 

“Why?” He snaps, sitting up now, his eyes intense. 

“I can’t tell you, but I need to know” she says quietly avoiding his gaze. 

Draco sighs, taking a few moments to think it over before replying. 

“We were sent to look for a ugly yellow wig with a crown, Voldemort told my father exactly where to find it.”

Hermione gasps unable to hide her reaction. 

“Did- do you have it?” her voice shakes. 

“Granger, tell me why you’re asking about this!” He demands. 

“You do have it, don’t you!” She exclaims, her eyes wide with terror and excitement. She wasn’t sure how to feel in that exact moment. 

“I don’t have it but I know where it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter all in past tense (idk why) and had to edit extensively, very tedious - if that makes any sense. I also have to make significant changes to every chapter from here on out because I made a big change to my original outline of this story after already pumping out 20+ chapters. Blah! There may be some inconsistencies, im doing my best to keep them to a minimum.
> 
> Any feedback is welcome & thank you for the kudos!!


	11. ELEVEN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smutty Smuterson, haha

~~~

Hermione's heart raced at the possibility of finally getting the last lost Horcrux. 

“Draco, we need it, you have to get it” she says, gripping his shoulders. 

“Is that how we kill him?” He asks, his mind working, putting it together. 

“It’s a part of it, yes” she confesses. That much she could tell him, she decides. Hoping he won’t push for more but knows better.

He nods. Hermione sits back in awe. She’s found the last horcrux. A crushing feeling comes over her at the realization that they didn’t have any way of destroying it, not without the sword or Fiendfyre, which was highly unstable at best— it may come to that. 

“Granger, you’ve got to give me something here.” Draco says, watching her as she stands and begins to pace around the room. 

He was being open with her, more than she’d imagined. Enough for her to know that even if he did have ulterior motives Draco truly did want Voldemort dead. 

“The potion, the rare ingredients, it’s all a lie— but we need to keep working on it.” She says, facing him now. Her fingers twisting.

He crosses over to her now and takes her hands in his, gripping her wrists tightly. She’s caught off guard by the roughness and stumbles back with a yelp. 

“The Dark Lord saw it in your mind, he’s shown me a part of it, how could it be a lie!” He demands, his face twisted, eyes were hard and cold. 

He realizes he’s angry that he almost died over a lie. She tries explaining why it was important but he cuts her off. 

“I don’t care why, I want to know how! How did you deceive him!” He yells at her, his fingers twisting painfully around her wrist. 

“You’re hurting me!” She steps back, trying to pull away from him. 

He lets her go and paces around her, seething, his hands in his hair. He looks at her in disbelief. 

“Snape did this, didn’t he. He sent you on a suicide mission. You went voluntarily!” He yells into the room now. 

Hermione nods, tears falling. 

“He trained you to place false memories for the Dark Lord to find” he says, putting it all together with stunning accuracy. 

“Yes” Hermione confesses, unable to deny it any longer. 

“How long did you train? When did you start?” He asks, his voice firm, face tense. 

“Please calm down, I can’t talk to you when you’re like this” she pleads, trying to calm herself as well. 

“Answer the question, Granger” he counters, fisting his hands at his sides, holding back his anger but only just. 

“Months, maybe six” she answers, unsure of the timeline. “Occlumency came naturally to me, Snape took a special interest. My mind is different.” she says, watching his anger rise. 

Draco paces furiously, clenching and unclenching his fist, his breaths harsh. 

“That bastard” he mutters. 

“Draco, I don’t understand, I know it almost cost you your life in Peru—“ she begins to ask, thinking his anger came from him nearly dying over something that was part of her and Snape’s scheme. 

“My life?” He spats at her with an incredulous look. “You really have no idea, do you?”

“Then explain it to me, please Draco” she pleads. Hermione was at a loss. 

“Was it all a lie? The potion, Australia, me?” He says quietly, sitting on the bed. He looks deflated and defeated.

Hermione comes to him then. 

“No, I swear it. Just the part for You-Know-Who. Everything else is real. Snape said it had to be real, that You-Know-Who would know. My soul had to— it had to break, in order for it to work” she said in a rush, reaching for his face. 

Draco's eyes widen at the mention of her soul. 

“You broke your soul” he repeats in a whisper. 

Hermione nods. Swallowing hard bracing herself to explain it all. Trying to gather the courage to confess without breaking down. 

“It was supposed to be you, my secret of you, that was the plan” she explains, looking away “You-Know-Who had to weaken me to the point where I believed myself to be at death's door, then I would finally break and reveal my secrets and he’d find the answers he’d been searching for without doubting their integrity. In order for my soul to break it had to be real” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “You were a secret, I hadn’t even known I’d guarded so heavily, I didn’t know I’d hidden you so deeply” she finishes quietly, silent tears falling. She swiped them away with irritation. Pushing herself to finish. “Snape saw it when he first started training me and wanted to use it, he knew it would have the right effect and he— we decided that yours was, that you—” she folds herself tightly against her knees. “But I couldn’t do it” she sobs, her head in her hands. “When the moment came, I reached out and I don’t know why but I knew I had to give them up instead of you, my parents. It was a gut feeling” she couldn’t stop herself now and everything spilled out. “I gave them up and I was going to hide you away again but I broke and it felt like nothing before, Draco. Like I was empty inside. I only had a moment while You-Know-Who was distracted by the false memories, the lies. And then there were Harry’s secrets too. I had to hide those otherwise it’d all been for nothing. I meant to come back for yours but he found you, I didn’t have the strength and he found you.” She repeated. A ragged breath escaped her, she wiped the tears from her cheeks, avoiding his stare. 

Draco grabs her hand and she squeezes it back. 

“I’m sorry, I had hoped he’d kill me afterwards. I never meant for him to find out about you. I think Snape left hints for me to use my parents because he’d planned on moving them somehow, though I never revealed to him their location. I never told anyone, not even Harry or Ron” She whispers, looking at him now. 

Draco looks at her with disbelief, shock and wonder etched into his face. 

“Does anyone know what you did other than Snape?” He asks, reaching up to her face, wiping a stray tear away. 

Hermione shakes her head. 

“Harry would’ve never allowed it” she whispers, her body shivering. 

“Fucking Snape, that’s why he didn’t fight back” Draco huffs, his voice flat, eyes turning cold again.

Hermione gasps at his words, Snape’s death still felt very raw. 

“Draco, how did you get to Snape, what happened?” She asks, needing to understand. 

“No, Granger. That’s off limits.” He says firmly. 

Hermione's blood boiled. She’d confessed so much and he couldn’t trust her with this. It didn’t make sense. 

“That’s not fair, you still don’t trust me!” She says, trying to pull away but his hold on her is firm. 

“I need time to process, let it go for now” he says, his eyes pleading, the coldness replaced by something warm and familiar. 

Hermione nods in acceptance and leans into him. Draco waves his wand and dries her tears. 

“I hate it when you cry” he whispers against her cheek. 

“You’d think I’d run out of tears by now” she laughs weakly, turning her face and meeting his stare. 

Draco kisses her cheeks, her nose, her forehead. Peppering kisses all over face until he finally finds her lips. Hermione winds her arms around his neck and he pushes her back against the mattress, using a free hand to spread her thighs and settle between them. His hands grip her upper thighs, his fingers seem to burn through her jeans and she pants into his mouth. 

One hand moves higher and she stills, excitement and dread mixing together. He reaches the metal button of her jeans and unzipped, his fingers sliding over the lace that peaks through the unzipped opening. Hermione bits her lip, unsure of what to do. He looks up at her, his eyes lidded, face flushed, as he slides his fingers underneath her knickers. 

“Oh, Draco—ah” she moans as his fingers slip between her folds. Hermione blushed furiously realizing just how quickly she'd become aroused. 

“Fuck, Granger” he grits out, fingers gliding down her folds, feeling how wet she was. 

“Wait” she breathes. Draco stops fully, his hands freezing between her legs, touching the most sensitive part of her. 

“I haven’t— I never” she throws head back as mortification overwhelms her, covering her face with both hands. 

She feels Draco's fingers quickly retract. He buttons her jeans again and she wishes the world would swallow her whole. 

“Granger, how is that possible?” he asks quietly, his face inches from her. 

Hermione shakes her head, unwilling to answer. 

“That’s off limits” she mutters. 

“No it's bloody not, not after what we did earlier” he says, pulling her hands away. 

“It just didn’t happen, just take it as that, please” she begs. 

“What about Weaslebee?” He asks, a cocky smile on his face. 

“Don’t call him that” she snaps, narrowing her eyes at him in mild annoyance. “Ron is, well let’s just say he’d be more interested in you or more specifically Viktor Krum”

Draco was completely taken aback by that and she almost laughs at his facial expression. 

“Viktor Krum” he repeats with disbelief. 

He laughs then, a deep rumbling sound that shook her out of the mortified state she’d been in. She sits up now, laughing slightly, at him more than anything, his genuine laughter infecting her. 

“Stop, they care for each other, it’s been hard for them. Bulgaria isn’t very progressive in such matters.” She says as his laughter eased. 

“Blimey Granger, do you know how bloody jealous I was of that Bulgarian idiot?” He’s standing now. 

Hermione scoffs at that, it was absolutely impossible. 

“You were not!” She insists, pushing him back, sure that he’s joking. She thinks of Draco at the Yule Ball with Pansy Parkinson. It was inconceivable, she shakes her head at the idea. 

“Granger—“ he stops himself. He looks at her with sad eyes. 

Hermione couldn’t accept it. Whatever he was going to say. She continues to shake her head in disbelief. 

“No, no, you hated me. I’m not even sure that you don’t still do” she says, somewhat laughing at the last bit. Dracos eyes narrow at her words. 

“Granger, if I hated you do you think I would’ve- earlier, what sort of monster do you think I am?” His voice is firm but there was a tint of sadness. 

“Then why—“ she starts to ask. 

“Because I’m a bloody coward! I was a complete fool, a pig-headed idiot!” He spits out, hands in his hair, he was angry but not at her, at himself. 

“You were awful” Hermione whispers. 

He nods. 

“I didn’t understand why I— I couldn’t see you as a monster. I think in a way it was a bit intriguing to have your attention, even if it was humiliating. I still wanted to be seen by you. I felt so pathetic.” She covers her face as her face flushes, remembering her shame. 

“I wish I’d been different, I should’ve told you, you wer—“Hermione cuts him off, pressing her lips to his and swallowing his apology. 

She kissed him with desperation and hunger. Fisting her hands in his hair and wrapping her legs around his waist. Draco pulled her closer, running his hands along her sides, squeezing her bum. 

Hermione broke the kiss, catching her breathe before eagerly nibbling on his chin and jaw. She wanted him to make that delicious sound that made her stomach flip and her clit pulse. Draco captured her lips again and she sucked his tongue greedily until she drew a low groan out of him. 

“Fucking hell, Granger” he said, pulling her tightly against his hardness. 

She moans and rocks against him, her thighs spread wide, she wishes she wasn’t wearing her jeans. She could feel so much more of him in the silky pajamas, she bucks against him rude and wanton. Wanting more she lifts slightly and began loosening the knot of his bottoms. Draco tugs at her bottom lip, his hand sliding underneath her jumper moving towards her breasts. Hermione pulls on the band of his bottoms and he grabs her wrist gently stilling her.

“I want— will you show me how?” She whispers, their eyes locked. 

Draco pushes her off, then moving to stand and quickly re- tying the strings of his bottoms. 

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks softly, hating how inexperienced she is with this. 

“No, I just want to do things differently” he explains, his breathing is haggard and he clenches and unclenches his hands. 

“Will you join me for dinner in 15 minutes?” He asks abruptly. 

Hermione is taken aback by the change in subject. Her inexperience is making her self conscious and she questions every move she’d made, every kiss. He wanted to do things differently, she repeats in her head. She wishes she had Ron or Ginny to talk to, to explain what she’d done wrong. 

“It’s not you, Granger. Stop over analyzing it” he says knowingly. “Just come eat dinner with me, please.”

Hermione nods nervously. Draco leaves the room and she slumps backwards on the bed. Once again there was so much to unpack. They needed to stop having such earth shattering conversations she thought. Yet somehow she feels lighter than ever having finally unburdened herself from some of the secrets she’d been carrying. Being able to trust Draco this much, it was more than she’d ever imagined was possible. 

She stops to occlude momentarily hiding her conversation with Draco, not enough to forget but enough that it’s not floating on the surface. The fear of being interrogated again never leaves her and it makes these conversations with Draco all the more dangerous. 

When she finally walks out to the kitchen she finds Draco flipping through the Daily Prophet while Rux sets the table. A rich savory smell floats to her and her stomach rumbles loudly. 

“I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I smelled this!” She exclaims and Draco looks up to her smiling. 

Seeing Draco smile, genuinely smile at her with it turning into a sneer was new for Hermione. It makes her feel warm and dizzy, she swallows hard. Draco’s eyes turn dark and she looks away.

Rux filled two bowls with what look to be a sort of stew with tender pieces of meat, potatoes and carrots. He sets two goblets and snaps his fingers, filling them generously with red wine. Then vanishes with a _CRACK!_

They ate dinner mostly in silence, occasionally commenting on the food and exchanging smiles. Draco keeps giving her these long looks which make her self conscious about eating. When she asks him to stop it, he grins wickedly. 

“You’re the most confusing boy, you know” she says after another heated staring contest. 

“How so?” He asks, in feigned confusion, that wicked grin spread across his face. 

Draco likes to play games she realizes. She’d never been able to fully participate in conversations about sex with Ron, Ginny or Luna but she’d paid close attention. There were varying dynamics and roles when it came to flirting and apparently more than a few different ways to implement these tactics when it comes to sex. Luna and Neville for example, Luna had let it slip that Neville enjoyed being bossed around in the bedroom, she’d mentioned ropes and other objects, all very matter of factly like she was explaining the recipe for pumpkin pasties. Ginny had doubled over in giggles while her and Ron had been horrified to know something so deeply intimate about their closest friends. Ron claimed to not be able to look Neville in the eye ever again.

If Draco wanted to play games then she would rise to the challenge. 

“Can I read the paper after you’re done” she asked standing and walking to him, wanting to test her theory. 

He eyed her suspiciously before reaching for it and handing it over. Hermione took it and leaned against the table just a few inches from him, opening it and flipping through the pages, her arse propped up on the table top beside his meal. She flipped through the pages trying her best to look like she was actually reading, a few titles stood out and nearly distracted her.

Draco cleared his throat and she willed herself to keep her eyes on the article of reusable magical q-tips, pretending it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever laid eyes on. She wanted to test him a little more, she decided. Folding the paper in half so she could hold it in one hand she let her free hand settle on her hip. Tracing the band of her denims for a few seconds then letting her fingers slip under her jumper, lifting it slightly, exposing a bit of her stomach as she rubbed the skin there. 

Totally normal, she thought. I’m reading the paper and scratching an itch. She heard his breath catch and her hand dipped a bit lower, thumbing the band of her jeans again, her thumb barely skimming the skin beneath it. Hermione smiled. 

“You little minx” Draco grit out, grabbing her thigh. 

Hermione yelped and spun out of his grip. 

“I think I’ll read in my room” she said smiling wide and walking backwards towards the hallway. 

“The hell you are.” He said, closing the distance, his eyes dark and lidded. 

Draco snatched her by the waist so suddenly she lost her breath, the pages of the daily prophet scattering as he tossed her over his shoulder. 

“Put me down!” She demanded but her voice was low and raspy, excitement coursing through her. Draco responded by smacking her arse smartly, she yelped. 

They were in his room in seconds and she was tossed unceremoniously onto the bed, falling on her back. She scooted backwards trying to compose her limbs but Draco pulled her legs down to the edge of the bed, attacking the buttons of her jeans and tugging them down. 

Oh god, oh god. Hermione panicked but couldn’t stop him, didn’t want to. She covered her face with her hands as he pulled them off. 

“You want to play games, Granger” he gritted out. Something about his tone made her squeeze her thighs together. 

“ No— you’re the one. Bloody staring— you started it” she pants. Draco pulled his pajama top off and grabbed her legs, spreading her open, climbing onto the bed and caging her. Her jaw dropped at the sight of him. She’d seen him topless but not like this, alive and half naked and looking at her like he could consume her. 

Her thighs shook slightly as his fingers trailed up and down them, he watched her intensely and she wished he’d just kiss her already. 

“Show me how you come Granger” he said sternly, determination in his face. 

Hermione's face burned as she shook her head. She couldn’t, not with him. Draco leaned down, his lips nearly touching hers. 

“Show me” he demands, his breath on her lips. She groaned, closing her eyes. 

Draco took her hand and placed it between her thighs over her knickers, his hand over hers and pressing down firmly. Hermione's eyes shot open as Dracos darkened and his breath caught. She could see the muscles in his belly tighten and flex. He was just as worked up as she was.

Her hand began to move underneath his and he pushed down harder making her yelp. He knelt down, spreading her thighs wider and leaning his face against her inner thigh, he let his teeth graze the soft skin there and she bucked her hips, tossing her head back murmuring unintelligible things to him. 

“Look at me” he says, removing his hand from hers. 

Hermione met his stare, watching him watch her as she rubbed her clit in fast circles, his mouth slightly open. She noticed his free hand was fisting his cock through the silk now, a wide mushroom head clearly imprinted. Her eyes flicked back to his face and she whimpered again as they both worked themselves into a frenzy. 

Draco nipped her thigh a little harder and Hermione felt that tightening sensation deep in her belly, she pulled her hand out of her knickers momentarily, grabbing the sides to pull them down. 

“No— just this” he panted against her legs. His mouth closer to her fingers now. 

Hermione whined with frustration, narrowing her eyes at him but slipping her fingers back under her knickers, between her wet folds until she found her clit again, rubbing circles around it until she reached that same pulsing rhythm.

“Draco, I want— more” she gritted out. 

“Push a finger inside” he growled. 

Hermione hesitated, she’d never done that before, and it made her nervous and excited all at once. She bit her bottom lip as she moved her fingers down finding her opening, she lifted her hips slightly and her finger slipped in. She felt smooth and slick and hot. Merlin, she thought. Why had she never done this? 

Draco fisted himself harder now, she matched his rhythm, sliding her finger in and out, ignoring the slippery sounds. 

“Bloody hell, Hermione. You’re killing me” Draco rasped against her thigh, his eyes closing tightly. 

She fell apart at the sound of her name, her chest burned and her ears rang, the room went silent. Her cunt clenched around her fingers greedily and it made her scream, belly muscles tightening impossibly. Just when she thought she was coming down she felt Draco's hot mouth on her. 

He'd slid her knickers to the side while she writhed and moved her hand, placing his lips tight around her clit. Hermione jolted and tried to shove his head away but he gripped both her wrists firmly, holding them down to the mattress as he devoured her. His tongue was relentless, soft and wet and hard, he lapped at her folds with long slow licks, tasting her arousal. He ran his tongue down to her entrance where her finger had been. He looked up at her as he slid his tongue inside and their eyes locked. 

“Draco— oh fuck” she panted. 

He moaned inside her and she felt herself tighten against his tongue, he flicked it in and out a few times slowly and then faster. One of his hands released her wrist and moved down to stroke himself again, Hermione took her free hand and fisted his hair. That overwhelming feeling pulsing at her core again, tightening and tightening until she screamed a second time. 

She dropped back against the mattress, her thighs shaking, she felt Draco shudder against her, murmuring things she couldn’t quite make out. His lips travelled upwards, leaving wet slippery kisses as he moved. Hermione captured his mouth they kissed slowly, breathless. She tasted herself on his lips and she flushed. 

“That was better than any fantasy” he whispered against her neck. 

“Mmm” Was all she could say, closing her eyes, too tired to form words. 

Draco waved his wand once and adjusted his bottoms and then pointed it at her thighs, Hermione felt a brief chill pass between her them and then the slipperiness was gone. 

He pulled her against his body and she turned into his chest already drifting off. She fell asleep as he raked his fingers through her hair, murmuring things against her cheek, making her promises she wasn’t sure he could keep. 

~~~

Hermione shifted sleepily and found herself trapped inside a firm grasp. She opened her eyes and saw pale creamy skin. She was pressed tightly against Dracos chest, their limbs intertwined, one of his arms over head. She recalled his fingers raking thru her curls as she drifted off and smiled at him. 

Trying not to wake him, she slid one hand upwards between them, reaching for the arm above her head. She had to stretch a bit to get the angle right and felt something hard brush up against her stomach. Her eyes shot up at him and found a small smile on his face, his eyes still closed. 

“Stop moving, Granger” he said groggily, pulling her in closer. 

Hermione huffed, half frustrated and half in heaven. 

“I have to get up” she grit out, wriggling against more purposeful now. 

Draco hissed and shot out of bed, cursing and swearing. Hermione's eyes widened momentarily thinking he was upset with her for some reason but quickly realized what was happening. Draco was gripping his arm, he was being summoned. 

“Something is wrong” he spat as he began changing. 

“How do you know” she asked, feeling helpless. 

“It burns differently when he’s upset” Draco hissed, rubbing at his arm. “I’ve got to go, if anything happens, call Rux or floo— you should be able to. Go to Malfoy Manor, my mother will help you get back to the Order.” 

Hermione nodded. 

Draco started walking out of the room, gripping his arm before turning abruptly and placing a small kiss against her lips. He leaned against her briefly, breathing her in and then left without a second look. Hermione realized she was only in her knickers, and wrapped her arms around her middle. She stayed in the room for a while, staring out the door he’d left through, wondering when would be back. 

Eventually she made her way back to her own room, grabbed a couple of books and clean clothes. She bathed in Draco's bathroom, deciding to occupy his room until he returned. She went to the kitchen to make tea and found a tray of food, a couple of sandwiches, a salad, soup and a yogurt parfait. She rolled her eyes at the excess remembering their fight about food. Hermione brought the tray into the room and ate every bite. 

Draco didn’t return that night. Hermione felt an empty achy feeling. Please don’t die, she thought. She’d curled herself into a ball in the center of the bed and allowed herself to be pitiful just this once. Tomorrow she would train, form plans and over analyze everything. Tonight she’d allow herself to feel. 

Morning came and with no sign of Draco. She forced herself to get out of bed into the shower and eat all of her breakfast before returning to his room. It was spacious enough that she could train inside it, she half laughed at herself for being concerned over space, she’d trained in a cell for months after all. 

Hermione thought about The Order, wondering what progress they’d made. If they were responsible for Voldemort being upset, she hoped that was the case. It made her refocus on her mission, it wasn’t over she decided. They needed to gather the rest of the ingredients for the potion and put Voldemort on the path Snape had envisioned. 

This war needed to end. For the first time in years Hermione allowed herself to think of life after the war, of a life where her and Draco could explore whatever was happening between them. She scolded herself for it. There were still so many elements to the plan that were dangerous. She hadn’t expected to return when she started this and she shouldn’t afford to distract herself with unrealistic possibilities. Hermione would take whatever time they had together and savor it until the very end. 

A week passed and Hermione began to panic. Desperate for information she decided to take post in the kitchen, waiting for a house elf to show up with food, not wanting to call for Rux directly because it felt like an abuse of what little power she had. She’d been reading her book when a sharp _CRACK!_ broke the silence. Rux laid a tray of food on the counter and vanished all in a split second. 

“Blast!” she yelled out loud into the room as the elf disappeared. 

“Rux!” She called, too frustrated and stressed to keep waiting.

_CRACK!_

_“_ Is there any news of Draco” she asked hesitantly. 

“Master Draco and Master Lucius gots called by Dark Lord, Mistress is most distressed” the elf squeaked, tears forming in his eyes. 

Hermione gasped thinking of Narcissa. 

“Rux could you bring me a copy of the Daily Prophet with my breakfast from now on, please” she asked as sweetly as she could. 

“Rux ask Mistress first” he replied, wiping tears away from his face before vanishing again. 

The next morning Hermione found a copy of the Daily Prophet with her breakfast. She rushed towards ripping it open. Lucius was on the front cover, along with Bellatrix. The head line read St Mungos Victory for Lord Voldemort. Hermione gasped, he’d attacked a hospital. Anger bubbled inside her as she read through the column.

It didn’t list the names of the fallen. The entire article depicted The Order as a maniacal group of rebels who’d attacked the sick and defenseless in order to take control of the hospital and its resources. Hermione knew that was absolutely false, they would never attack a hospital. 

The article hinted at heavy losses on both sides. Hermione looked back at the main photo, Lucius being upfront had to mean Draco was ok, right? He would be grieving or back at Malfoy Manor if he was preparing for a funeral. She was almost certain a Malfoy's death would’ve made the paper. 

After reading the paper a half dozen times she finally set it aside and began eating her now cold breakfast. It was then she realized a small note had fallen onto her toast. 

_Anything you need dear, just ask - NM_

Hermione couldn’t imagine how Narcissa felt, both her husband and child called away to war at the bequest of an unstable monster. A part of her wanted to floo to Malfoy Manor and console her, but also to have someone to talk to. The loneliness was beginning to eat away at her. 

That night she slipped into her silky pajamas and laid in bed watching the candle flicker and melt slowly until she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. She awakened with a start, realizing she’d slept into the afternoon, the sun was setting. Her stomach rumbled loudly and she groaned as she peeled herself out of bed. 

She spotted a tray of food, steak and potatoes with asparagus, her mouth watered. Hermione had been eating three square meals a day for almost two weeks now and it showed in her body. Her ribs were less pronounced and her clothes fit better. Even her hair looked different, it’s bounce and shine returning. She began digging into her steak when she heard a loud roar in the living room. 

Hermione bolted out of the kitchen, nearly tripling over the bearskin rug as she ran towards the fireplace. Draco stepped out, spotting her and crossing to her, Hermione jumped into his arms. Draco squeezed her all over, as if reassuring himself that she was real, his hands grabbed her arms and stomach, reaching around to squeeze her bum. He pulled her up and she wrapped her legs around him, nuzzling her nose against his neck. He felt so good, so alive. 

Draco breathed her in, he fisted her hair gently tugging her head back to find her lips. His kiss was tender, slow and seductive, he shivered. 

“You feel bloody amazing” he whispered, breaking their kiss. 

“I mi— are you back?” She said, catching herself. She unwound her legs and steadied herself, Draco held her tightly. 

He nodded. He stepped back a bit, his eyes accessing her, she crossed her arms feeling self conscious. 

“You’ve been eating” he said with a smile.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide her smile. 

“I have questions” she said as they stared at each other. 

“Granger, let me shower and eat and then you can ask me anything you want.” He said with a sigh. 

Hermione took in his appearance for the first time. He had specks of dirt on his forehead and his cloak was almost ashen. She nodded and he began walking towards the room then stopped and took her hand, tugging her behind him. She waited in his bed until he finished and then watched him bring in a tray of food. He sat next to her, his head leaning against the headboard as he finished eating, he looked exhausted. 

“We can talk tomorrow” she said quietly, touching his face. 

Draco leaned into her touch and she pulled the covers over them, rolling slightly onto him as he adjust their bodies. Hermione tucked her back against his chest as he wrapped an arm around her tightly. She felt safe and warm and whole. Draco drifted off almost instantly, his soft breath on her hair, she closed her eyes, absorbing the feeling of his body wrapped around her this way until she too drifted off. 

She gasped slightly as she woke, the sun shining on her face, her eyes squinted. There was this insistent pressure between her legs and she realized she’d been squeezing her thighs tightly, her hips wiggled and a firm grip squeezed her hips. 

“You really do talk in your sleep, Granger” Draco whispered in her ear. 

She groaned with annoyance and buried her head in her pillow. She’d been dreaming of him, of them, of his mouth on her. 

Draco slid his hand across her belly and pulled at the strings of her pajamas, slipping his hand beneath the silk. 

“We’re supposed to talk” she said, trying to keep her voice even. 

“Later” he grit, his fingers finding her slick and needy. 

Hermione moaned lightly and squeezed her thighs, trapping his hand. Draco lifted both of them into a sitting position and she yelped, he scooted back until he was sitting against the massive log headboard. Hermione tried to turn her body to face him but he kept her still with her back against his chest, she huffed with frustration.

Draco lifted her chin, turning her face to him, their noses touched and he breathed her in. She pulled at his lips but he refused to open and it frustrated her, she growled at him and he chuckled. He reached down as she tried to kiss him again, using both hands to spread her thighs and then trailed his fingers up to her stomach. Hermione sucked in her stomach at his touch, her breaths shallow as his fingers swirled around her navel. 

Her nipples stiffened and ached, she brought her hands to them and squeezed. 

“Do that again” Draco demanded, his hands working on the buttons of her top.

Hermione stopped him, pulling the top over her head, his hands came up and encased her breast, she leaned her head back against him and sighed. His mouth found hers and they kissed slow and heady, theirs tongues swirling and teasing. 

One of his hands began a torturous trail down her belly to the silky bottoms. Hermione lifted her bum a little and he helped her slide them off, leaving her legs bare and spread, wearing only her lacy knickers. 

Hermione blushed at her nakedness, crossing her arms over breast. Draco's unfolded them and she whimpered. 

“You’re perfect” he said against her lips. 

She shook her head but he didn’t let her speak, taking her lips again. His fingers dipped under her knickers and he found her wet and ready once again. Hermione bucked against him, unable to keep still, as he swirled his fingers around her clit. 

“Ah- Draco, more!” She panted in between his slow kisses. 

He slid a long finger inside her then and she moaned loudly, her legs clamped shut instantly. Draco spread them again with free hand and began working his finger in and out of her. She could hear how slick she was and it made her moan and grind down against his fingers. She felt her stomach tighten, she was close. 

“Draco— more” she demanded. 

Another finger pushed inside, he slowed as he eased both fingers in, she felt her cunt squeeze around his fingers. A new sensation spread, she could feel the pressure inside her, filling her. His fingers started moving again and she lifted her hips slightly. 

“Fuck, Granger— so tight” he panted into her hair. His other hand at her neck now, squeezing gently. 

“Oh gods, I’m close” she whimpered as his fingers worked in and out her furiously. The slick sounds of her arousal was intoxicating and rude and she couldn’t get enough of it. 

She felt his hips grind behind her and his hardness pressed against her back, she stilled, reaching behind her. Hermione shifted her hips to the side and slipped her hand under his silk pajama bottoms. Draco slid his fingers deeper than ever and held her there as he watched her. 

Hermione looked up at him as her hand wrapped around his length, it twitched in her fingers, she was in awe of it. Hard yet velvety soft and slick, he was wet too she realized. Draco groaned at her touch, his eyes closing, his forehead touching hers. 

“Draco, show me how” she whispered. 

He pulled his bottoms down and his cock sprang free, standing proud, the tip glistened with moisture. Hermione looked stared in wonder. She didn’t understand how he could fit inside her, she swallowed hard. He was much larger than two of his fingers together, it wasn’t going to work she thought, but was distracted as he slowly moved his fingers in and out of her again. 

Draco placed his hand over hers and guided it over his length, showing her how to grip and stroke him, using the moisture that seeped out of the mushroom tip to slide her hand up and down. His fingers moved faster inside her and she matched his rhythm. 

His hand returned to her neck as she worked him, the other working under her knickers, two fingers knuckle deep inside her. The tightening in her belly returned and she dug her heels into the mattress as he buried his fingers inside her. 

“I’m gonna come” he groaned into her curls. Hermione pumped him harder as she felt herself reach a breaking point, falling over its edge, she screamed. Draco groaned, his hips lifted, his cock throbbed in her hand. Their lips crashed together, breath harsh, sweat coated their bodies. Hermione melted against him, catching her breath, her hand still gripping him. She let him go slowly, realizing his cum dripped from her palm. 

Draco waved his wand to clean them up. Hermione pulled the covers up to cover her naked body, she felt her entire body flush as reality set in. 

“I think you’ve ruined me” he said quietly. 

Hermione turned to face him, he was smiling wickedly, his arms crossed behind his head as he leaned on the headboard, a satisfied look on his head.

“You don’t seem that upset about it” she teased, smiling back. 

“Granger, you have no idea” he said, closing his eyes and sighing deeply. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost completely rewrote this entire chapter and removed the smut because I doubt myself hardcore. But as a fellow lover of smutty fanfic I know how impatient I get when i'm 10 chapters deep into a story with only one heated kiss - would annoy me terribly, so here ya go. 
> 
> *possible spoiler alert*  
> I just want to add that yes, its looking real fluffy and the romance is progressing quickly but I intend this to be a dark fic, I haven't lost sight of that. It's not all unicorns and rainbows for these two.


	12. TWELVE

~~~

Hermione eventually disentangled herself from Draco to crawl out of bed. She needed to shower and change, her stomach rumbled, they hadn’t eaten all day. They also had much to discuss, she was eager to learn more about the St Mungos battle, anxiety built as she thought of the fallen and who they might be. The Daily Prophet hadn’t given a number but claimed The Order had suffered “many” casualties.

Draco sat across from her in the small kitchen table, quietly eating as she pushed around her food. She was waiting for him to finish but couldn’t focus on her food anymore.

“I don’t know how many died or all of their names. I only recognized a few. They had less casualties than was reported, it was our side that took the brunt of it. We underestimated the protections at the Hospital, thinking it would be an easy target.” He said, breaking the silence.

Hermione exhaled and nodded. That was amazing news but she didn’t want to celebrate just yet.

“I can confirm Seamus Finnigan And Dean Thomas went down. Longbottom was captured.” Hermione gripped the table, her breath catching, Draco continued. “Fleur Delacour was badly injured but made it out. The Weasley girl—“ Hermione caught him off.

“Ginny!” She gasped, her heart racing.

Harry kept Ginny out of battle but she often volunteered to be on guard at the hospital. Of course she’d been there, she thought with horror in her eyes.

“She’s fine, I had to throw a stinging jinx at her to save face but she saw my hesitation and came after me” he stopped, running a hand through his hair.

“Ginny came after you?” She repeated.

“She chased me into a corner, I nearly stunned her but then she said something—“ he stopped and looked at her.

“Merlin, Draco. What did she say?” She demanded, standing and crossing to him.

“I think she was trying to send a message to you, she said that— Harry wants to grow old.” His eyes narrowed at her, taking in her reaction.

“Harry wants to grow old” she repeated, her mind prickling with familiarity but the root of it was too far, out of reach.

That was definitely some sort of signal. Hermione felt like it should stand out, she thought about it really hard but nothing came to mind.

“I’ll need to use Occlumency to figure it out. It’s definitely a message of some sort, it’s in my mind, I’m sure of it” she said honestly.

Draco nodded and his eyes softened.

“She let me disaparate after that” he finished.

Ginny knew Draco wasn’t trying to hurt them, that must mean Harry knew too or at least suspected it. She’d sent a message to Hermione through Draco, her heart felt lighter at the realization. She wanted to be alone now. Wanted to delve into her mind and piece it all together. But they needed to talk about everything else first.

“In Peru I said something to Harry, I asked him to trust me, I didn’t have time to say more” she explained. “I wasn’t sure if he’d understand. I ran back to you and away from them. I wasn’t sure what they would think, if they would trust me anymore.” She said quietly.

Draco pulled her onto his lap, reaching up to her face. So much was said when their gazes locked on to each other like this, words they didn’t dare speak to one another.

He broke first and began explaining how Harry and Ron had been spotted in South America after their disastrous exchange with Cisco. Harry was meeting with several South American Wizarding Governments, the Peruvian Wizarding government was advocating for The Order with Cisco’s help. Voldemort attacked the hospital as a low blow to bring Harry back to Britain, poking at Harry’s weakness. It also doubled as a way to reinforce the media's view of The Order as a terrorist organization.

Hermione was outraged by Voldemort’s ruthless tactics. Taking several deep breaths to calm herself. Nothing could be done now. Draco was back, they would move forward with their plans, that’s what mattered.

“Thank you” she said to him. Knowing how incredibly risky it must have been to show Ginny mercy in the middle of a battle.

Hermione had a thousand questions but decided needed to focus on what mattered most.

“Let’s talk about the Chinese Fireball egg. I don’t want anymore surprises like Charlie or your motion sickness” she said standing and taking his hand.

Hermione guided them into the living room to sit with enough space where they could be near enough to talk without being tempted to fall into one another. Draco started a fire and explained his plan for the eggs retrieval.

It seemed there was less risk here than in Peru. The Chinese Wizarding Government was aiding Voldemort in secret however, they were strongly opposed to the use of dragons in battle. Draco had already made contact with a chinese black market seller and they’d be meeting within a week. Hermione wouldn’t be coming along for this particular exchange, Draco wouldn’t hear of it no matter how much she protested.

“What’s the exchange?” Hermione asked, realizing Draco had failed to mention it.

“That’s off limits” he said, looking away from her.

Hermione felt herself anger, she closed her eyes and counted, calming herself.

“Why?” She asked, her voice tense.

“Granger, you don’t want to know” he said, still avoiding her gaze.

“You don’t think I can handle it!” She spat, her voice louder than she’d intended.

Draco leaned back, running a hand over his face. It was bad whatever it was.

“Slaves. Three of them.” He said quietly.

Hermione’s eyes widened with horror. Slaves as in people, Draco was going to trade people for a bloody dragon egg.

“Who?” she grit out, bracing herself.

“No, we’re done talking about it.” He said, reaching for her.

Hermione pulled away from him.

“I can’t, not now. Draco, tell me!” she demanded.

“Two are Veela, they were captured some time ago. They been pas— given to Death Eaters as entertainment.” He swallowed hard. “The third is Cho Chang. She was captured shortly after you.”

Hermione gripped her chest. Cho had been captured and so had Neville. With any luck Neville would be killed quickly but Cho and those girls were to be sold, that was a fate worse than death in her opinion.

“You can’t—“ she couldn’t finish, her voice shook.

“Granger, I have no choice. This is why you’re not coming. Macnair will be at the meeting point, I’m not putting you anywhere near him. You’re staying here, we’re done talking about it.” He said firmly, ending the conversation.

He tried reaching for her then but Hermione stood.

“I need to be alone, I’m sorry” she whispered and left the room.

Hermione realized she had been living in a fairytale compared to what the rest were facing. Draco was right, it was better that she didn’t know, she wished she didn’t. In less than a week's time three girls would be traded, there was nothing she could do about it, she had to live with that.

She closed her mind, cleared her thoughts, and stepped into that familiar trance. First she focused on the memories of her recent conversations with Draco making sure to tuck them away, safe from the surface. Safe from Voldemort. Then she set her focus on Harry and the message from Ginny, Harry wants to grow old. She repeated the question and memories of Harry floated down. Hermione carefully skimmed through them, they had so many memories together but in recent years there were less and less of them having full conversations. As the war intensified Harry spent the majority of his free time with Ginny which was understandable, she held no grudges against her friends even if it often made her feel like she was alone in the world.

Unable to find any answers at the surface Hermione decided to dig deeper. She floated to that hidden corner of her mind, pushing through the protective barrier with ease and reaching Harry’s secrets.

Hermione sent a ripple of intent with Ginny's message in mind, Harry wants to grow old, she repeated.

An old memory came forward, in it Hermione was about to tell Harry that she figured out who the boy in the photograph was. The memory played and Hermione relived the moment, she could feel the sadness in her heart from the familiarity of their location, she’d chosen it because it reminded her of her parents. The Forest of Dean.

Maybe we should stay here Harry, grow old

Did Harry want to meet her at The Forest of Dean? Perhaps her parents were there? She couldn’t know without going there could she and she couldn’t go now. She had to finish this with Draco first.

Hermione split the memory, taking the first half with her back to the surface, carefully closing the barrier behind her.

As she emerged tears formed and fell. Her friends didn’t think her a traitor. They were trying to communicate with her, possibly set up a rendezvous point. It also hadn’t occurred to her that Ginny had shown Draco equal mercy, Ginny was a gifted witch who could have hurt him, even killed him. Hermione had to convince Draco to leave with her when they finished, she’d need to find a way to extend that protection to Narcissa and Lucius. She cringed at the idea of helping Lucius but pushed it away for now.

Exhaustion fell over her, she’d been occluding for hours and it made her tired and weak. She rose from her bed and walked to Dracos room, finding his door open. He was propped up against the headboard reading a small black leather bound book with a gaudy emerald embellishments. As she approached he vanished the book quickly and smiled up at her.

“You’re always holding that same book,” she said curiously. “Why did you hide it just know?”

“Just a book on Chinese customs, nothing important” he said quickly and then pulled her onto the bed.

“I’m sorry for—“ she started to say but he caught her off.

“Don’t apologize, I understand” he said, his hand cupping her face.

“I want to sleep here with you” she told him.

Draco nodded, his eyes darkened.

Hermione laughed and they settled down under the covers. She was too spent to do more than kissing but he seemed content with just that. He kissed her slowly, peppering kisses all over her face. A part of her wished she wasn’t so tired. He felt so good. He kissed her until she drifted off.

She heard Draco’s voice in the distance. Calling her name, and pressing on her arm.

“Granger, wake up” Draco's voice suddenly clear and closer now.

Hermione looked and found his face watching her in the near darkness. With only the candlelight slightly illuminating him.

“What’s wrong? Are you being summoned?” She asked, sitting up in a panic.

“Change of plans, the exchange is happening now. Don’t leave this room no matter what. I can’t protect you outside of it. Promise me you’ll listen.”

“Yes, I promise” she whispered, trying to calm herself.

“If anything happens—“ he started to say.

“Call Rux or use floo to get to Malfoy Manor and find your mum” Hermione finished.

He kissed her then, long and deep. He pulled back after a minute and they stared at each other, all those unspoken things radiating all around them. Hermione stood and hugged him tightly, pressing her body against him before pushing him away.

He gave her one last longing look and left the room.

~~~

Draco didn’t return that night or the next. Hermione was going mad in his room, pacing endlessly, thinking of all the possible ways things could’ve gone wrong. She practiced Occlumency, trained, and read. Thankfully Draco had the foresight to bring her things into his room. Rux delivered food directly into the bedroom but had no news, the Daily Prophet was as useless as ever.

She’d been reading the latest copy when she heard the fire roar in the living room. Hermione nearly burst out the door but remembered what Draco had said about Macnair accompanying him. She blew out the candles and hid behind the door.

“Granger?” A male voice called out that wasn’t Draco. Still it sounded vaguely familiar, she was sure of it but remained hidden all the same.

She heard her name again this time closer, in the hallway. Hermione thought about calling out for Rux but was afraid of being caught before the elf arrived. She began tiptoeing towards the bathroom when the door flew open and she nearly screamed, pressing tightly against the wall.

“Lumos Maxima” the voice said clearly and a brilliant light illuminated the room.

Hermione charged at the source and hit a solid body, they both toppled over, the wand rolled on the ground, its light bobbing in and out. She lunged for the wand grasping it in her fingers and feeling her magic swell at her fingertips. Hermione flicked the wand and reignited the candle's flame slowly illuminating the intruders face.

“Zabini?” She said recognizing her former classmate.

“Blimey, Granger. Knocked the wind out of me” he said, standing with his hand rubbing his chest.

“Did Draco send you?” she asked, her voice cracking. Panic rising.

“Holy cricket, Granger. You’re a sight— wow. I never under—“ Blaize was looking at her with open appreciation.

“DID DRACO SEND YOU!” She repeated with a shriek, pointed his own wand at him.

“eh sort of, he’s at Malfoy Manor, I’m to bring you to him.” He said holding both his hands up.

“I don’t believe you.” She spat.

“You don’t have to believe me, you can floo there yourself. I’m just the messenger. I will be needing my wand back though. Also you need to wear these.” he said tossing her a thread bare pillow case looking material.

“I— don’t know” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

“Draco is hurt” Blaize said.

Hermione's eyes widened.

“I keep your wand” she said firmly.

“You can’t show up with my wand, Granger. For the same reason you have to wear the rags.” He said calmly, lowering his hands.

Hermione thought about it carefully. She needed to keep up the pretense of being a slave, they couldn’t know he’d free her, though it was clear Blaize knew Draco had freed her. It was making more sense now that Draco had sent him. She just wished he'd bloody told her that. She was definitely going to yell at him for this later, she decided.

“Fine, I keep the wand until I’m in the bloody fireplace and you say Malfoy Manor” she said definitely. Marching into the bathroom.

Hermione made quick work of changing into the rags. She stepped out of the bathroom and eyed Blaize, he was standing by the door, waiting.

“Granger, you are a vision” he said mockingly.

“Let’s go, before I stun you” Hermione muttered as she walked past him, his wand firmly in her grasp.

Hermione motioned for Blaize to step into the fireplace first and she followed, he grabbed a fistful of floo powder and yelled MALFOY MANOR. Hermione tossed him the wand as the flames enveloped them.

They appeared inside the lounge facing the velvet chesterfield couch. Blaize started walking out of the room but Hermione felt frozen, she didn’t know where his room was. Blaize turned around and eyed her.

“Follow me, Granger” he said knowingly.

The sunlight beamed brightly and she felt unnervingly exposed, the portraits watched her silent disapproval. Blaize climbed the staircase adjacent to the archway, where she’d heard Draco and Narcissa speaking the last time she was here. They walked down a long hallway with a similar design as the one where her room had been.

They reached a set of grand black and gold gilded double doors with a twisting thorn pattern. The doors opened as soon as they neared. This was Draco's room, she realized. It was double the size of the one she’d been in and much darker, all black sleek furniture with deep forest green and silver accents.

He laid in the middle of a large black four poster bed, Narcissa at his side. Lucius was standing by a large window, looking into the distance, the sun reflecting on his silver hand-- the one Neville had cut off. Hermione froze at the sight of him.

“Come dear, please sit” Narcissa said as she stood, patting the spot on the bed she’d been occupying.

Hermione's body trembled, she took a shaky step towards the bed, unsure of why they were allowing her near him. A sinking feeling washed over her. Blaize placed his hand between her shoulders and she flinched away.

“Relax, Miss Granger” Lucius' voice rang through the room, his tone haughty and indifferent “no one is going to hurt you, go to my son.”

“Hermione—“ Draco said weakly.

Hermione bolted to his side, reaching for his hand. Draco's eyes were closed but there was erratic movement beneath his eyelids. He looked in pain and completely out of it.

“Draco—“ her voice faltered and tears fell.

He squeezed her hand back and Narcissa gasped.

“What’s wrong with him?” She asked, wiping her eyes and reaching for his face.

“He didn’t complete his last task, the Dark Lord— he—“ Narcissa sobbed and Lucius came to her then.

Draco called out for her again and she tried to let him know she was there, holding his hand and touching his face. She reassured him over and over, laying her head on his chest until he began to calm and eventually slept. Hermione didn’t know when everyone had left the room, it seemed like hours later when she lifted her head and found herself alone.

There was a tray of finger food on the nightstand and Hermione scooted off the bed to grab a few cubes of cheese before looking for a bathroom. She found an equally dark and opulent bathroom connected to his room and used it quickly. When she emerged she peered at Dracos sleeping form, relieved to see that he remained sleeping soundly.

Blaize appeared in the doorway looking smug as she started to make her way back to Draco.

“So it’s true.” he said with a familiar smirk.

“Shut up.” she said without looking at him.

He chuckled lightly as he approached. Hermione heard him drop into an empty chair by the window. She looked at him, he was disheveled, dark circles under his eyes. For all his teasing, Blaize was just as stressed, he cared for Draco.

“What happened” she asked.

Blaize sighed harshly, his hands making a wide chaotic gesture.

“Fucking Cho Chang is what happened” he finally said. “Macnair thought he had her so well trained that he entrusted the care of the two French Veela girls to her. She bloody took the first chance she got and escaped taking the two Veela with her. Nearly killed Macnair in the process.” he made a throat cutting gesture and Hermione felt a victorious smile slowly creep across her face, she quickly smoothed her features unsure of Blaize's loyalty.

Her heart raced at the thought of Cho escaping with the two girls.

“What does Draco have to do with that?” She asked, nervously.

“Well Macnair said Draco didn’t help, that he froze. Blamed the girls escape on Draco lack of defense.” Blaize explained, an irritated look on his face. “The Dark Lord was in a fit about it all. Draco explained that his concern was primarily for the egg but he was punished all the same, severely this time.” He finished.

“Was the egg lost?” She asked nervously.

“He got it, it’s the only reason he’s alive. Macnair wasn’t so lucky”.

Hermione gasped, not for Macnair but for how close Draco had come to dying.

“Wanna know the worst part” Blaize asked, his hands gripping the chair tightly.

Hermione shook her head, she didn't think things could be any worse and she certainly didn't want to know.

“This is his own aunt's work” he said anyways, ignoring her.

Her jaw dropped at that, she looked back at Draco, his own family. That evil bitch, I’ll kill her if I ever get the chance, she thought.

“Bella will get hers in due time.” Narcissa said from the doorway, her usual grace slipping momentarily at the mention of her sister.

Her and Blaize made eye contact and he nodded, standing to leave the room.

“I’ll be seeing you around, Granger” he said with a wink.

Hermione certainly hoped not although she did appreciate his concern for Draco.

“Miss Granger, I’ve asked the elves to prepare the room across the hall for you—“ she paused momentarily, choosing her words “I think it’s best if you stay here for now. As much as it pains me to say, he seems to respond to you more than anyone else” she stopped again, her eyes welled and she cleared her throat. “This is the first time I’ve seen him sleep, since Lucius brought him home.”

“He’d been like this for two days?” Hermione asked, her eyes wide.

“I would have had you brought sooner but my husband is opposed— Miss Granger do you care for my son?” She asked, cutting to the chase.

Hermione froze and then burned, her face flushing intensely.

“I see” she said, not needing Hermione's response. “Please stay with him until he awakens, I’ll check on him throughout the day. If you need anything call Rux '' she stepped to Hermione then, bringing a gloved hand to her cheek. “You look much better, Miss Granger. I’ll have a proper dinner tray brought up in a bit”

Narcissa left the room quietly, leaving a dumbfounded Hermione sitting next to Draco.

Hermione mulled over all the new information. Cho and the Veela girls escaped, Draco had the egg, Macnair was dead and Draco had been tortured half to death. Hermione sighed, her temples ached, she continued anyway.

Blaize was an ally of sorts. Lucius was not, no big surprise there, although he seemed to be willing to tolerate her for Dracos sake. And Narcissa was not opposed? Narcissa approved of whatever her and Draco had become it seemed. She felt like she was in a demented dream.

Hermione laid next to Draco, holding him tightly whenever he seemed to stir and shake. An hour or so after Narcissa left Rux appeared with a tray of food and promptly left. Hermione ate in the chair Blaize had used, watching Draco take even breaths. When she was finished she curled up beside him, underneath the same covers and thought about where Cho could be and how Neville was faring until she too fell asleep.

She woke up to her body being jolted. She sat up quickly and realized Dracos entire body was shaking, he was seizing.

“RUX!” She screamed.

The elf appeared and quickly assessed Draco. Vanishing and reappearing a few more times before it began to push different vials into his mouth. Narcissa and Lucius burst through the door as Draco continued to seize. Two more elves came in to hold him down, Lucius stepping in to help as well.

Hermione's chest tightened, tears streamed down to her neck, she backed into a corner and hyperventilated. He’s dying, he’s going to die, the thought repeated. She felt warm delicate arms wrap around her. Narcissa was crying too, holding her tight.

“He’s not going to die, Draco is strong” she sniffled against Hermione's wild hair.

Draco stopped seizing and the elves were able to treat him better, the medicine going down his throat easier. Hermione and Narcissa both let out ragged breaths. Narcissa let her go to approach Dracos limp form. Lucius eyed her warily. She turned away from his gaze and focused on breathing, she held her hands in her head. It felt like it was going to explode again. Hermione dropped into a sitting position on the floor, hugging her knees.

Lucius took the empty chair and his nearness overwhelmed her. She began to rise, saying something about giving them their space.

“Miss Granger, please stay. Lucius won’t bite, I promise.” Narcissa said firmly, shooting Lucius a loaded look.

Hermione sat back down, dropping her heads to her knees and counting. She could feel Lucius's gaze on her.

“Miss Granger, stand up” Lucius said with contempt in his voice.

“Lucius—“ Narcissa started to say but was silenced by Lucius's raised hand.

Hermione stood, eyes wide, staring between the both of them. Narcissa had a furious look on her face.

“Miss Granger, put your hands up” Lucius said, his tone suspicious.

It immediately clicked in her head. He knew.

Hermione lifted her arms.

“Jump out the window” he ordered.

“Luc—“Narcissa stopped dead as her husband pulled his wand on her.

“Jump out the window, Miss Granger” he ordered again.

“Fuck you.” Hermiones said firmly, crossing her arms.

Lucius lowered his wand and stalked over to her, Narcissa quickly jumped between them.

“Don’t you ever raise your wand at me Lucious Malfoy!” Narcissa screamed at him.

“Do you see! He’s going to get himself killed over this— this” he yelled back.

“Mudblood” Hermione finished for him.

“Miss Granger, please leave us. I’ll come for you later.” Narcissa said.

Hermione fumed as she and Lucius glared at one another, his fury matching hers. She counted to ten before moving.

There’s another room across the hall with similar double doors in black and gold, slightly less ornate. She opened it and found that it was larger than the last room but it had been filled with the same decor. She was sure everything from the other room had been magicked into this one.

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed and felt incredibly overwhelmed. She shifted back and the rags slipped off her shoulder a bit, she gasped, realizing her bra strap was visible. She’d idiotically kept her underwear on. How could she be so stupid, she scolded herself.

She jumped down and began undoing the straps from inside the rags, twisting it desperately in a circle until she was free. Then she slid her knickers off and started to hide them under the mattress.

“You can keep them on Miss Granger. There’s no need to pretend any longer” Narcissa explained. Hermione jumped forward nearly toppling onto the bed.

“Wh—what about— others, I don’t want to put you in any more danger” Hermione said quietly

“Nobody comes up stairs unannounced. You can keep them on in this part of the house. Besides, I've made sure to let The Death Eaters know how I feel about their presence in my home. They do not come here for anything other than quick business and it’s not very often.” Narcissa said proudly.

Hermione nodded.

“You’ll have to excuse my husband” she said looking away. “He’s under a lot of stress. He won’t bother you again.” Her tone was apologetic and sincere.

“Thank you” Hermione replied, accepting her apology on behalf of Lucius. Although she was certain he hadn’t cared to offer it.

“He’s asleep again, you can go in” Narcissa said, turning to leave.

A blue fire roared to life just then, Hermione squeaked at the sudden sound. A willowy blue grey form emerged from the flames. Narcissa stopped in her tracks with an irritated look on her face. A female ghost glided into the room, Hermione was taken aback by her familiarity.

“Miss Granger, this is Moira. She’s been instructed not to bother you but you have peaked her interest. Please let me know if she disturbs you or Draco” Narcissa said tersely and swiftly left the room.

The ghost floated in place, folding her hands in front of her with a wide grin on her face. Her coloring made it impossible to discern but Hermione would bet anything that her hair was red. She looked like Ginny's evil twin. Her hair was thick and lustrous, cascading around her shoulder in soft waves. Her eyes were wide and feline shaped, her lips full.

Hermione watched the ghost as it began to circle her, taking her in, her nearness made her shiver.

The contrast between the obvious youth in her face and the outdated fashion of her Victorian era dress was striking. If it wasn’t for her gray blue tones and transparency Hermione would guess that the ghost was roughly about her age.

“It’s nice to meet you, Moira” Hermione said quietly.

“Likewise” The ghost's voice was light and it echoed subtly around the room.

“I think I saw you before or part of you, when I was last here” Hermione said, realizing this had been the blue light she’d followed in the darkness all those weeks ago.

“Yes, It gets quite boring around here. I needed to speed things along.” Moira said with a menacing smile.

Hermione wasn’t sure what she meant by that but she didn’t like the idea of Moira playing games with her.

“I have to get back to Draco.” Hermione said politely, turning away from the ghost.

“He cares for you.” The ghost said quietly as she walked away.

Hermione whipped around to face her. Unsure of what to say back. Did Draco confide in Moira, she wondered. She shook her head, not allowing herself to be distracted. She wasn’t sure what Moira wanted but she needed to keep her focus on Draco. She nodded at the ghost and walked back to Draco's room. The ghost followed, keeping a lengthy distance but present nonetheless. The fire in Dracos room changed as Moira floated in shifting to a subtle blue color. The room felt colder instantly.

“I won’t stay long” Moira said knowingly.

Hermione tried not to pay any mind to her the way everyone largely ignored the ghosts at Hogwarts. She sat by Draco and held his hand feeling him respond slightly, weakly closing his fingers around hers.

“He knows you’re here.” Moira said softly

Her words affected Hermione, she closed her eyes. A sadness overcame her as she thought about how Moira could possibly know that. Was Draco caught somewhere in limbo unable to wake up. The thought made her chest ache.

“He’s alive.” Moira said, floating near the window.

Hermione's head snapped back at the ghost with wide eyes, she hadn’t said anything out loud.

“It’s a gift of mine, but your face is quite expressive, Hermione. You should be careful with that.” Moira answered. Floating near the bed now.

“Stay out of my head.” Hermione said firmly.

“I don’t abuse my power, you have nothing to fear from me.” Moira’s voice was calm and she began to float towards an armoire. “I’m on your side Hermione. I hope we can become great friends” she floated through the wall leaving her alone with Draco.

Hermione hardly left Dracos side for the next week. He was in and out of consciousness, never quite opening his eyes. A few different healers stopped by, they agreed on the same course of action, time and lots of rest. They all come to the same conclusion, that Draco would eventually wake and regain his senses. Hermione had been so relieved to hear that, she’d gone into her room and let her tears flow in privacy.

Moira always appeared whenever she retreated to her room momentarily. Hermione suspected the ghost was lonely, they seemed similar in age and she wondered what had happened to her. As soon as the thought flicked across her mind she regretted it.

“I’m surprised you hadn’t thought of it sooner” Moira said, floating towards an open window. “It’s the first thing most people wonder. Although I suppose you’ve been distracted”

“I’m sorry, it’s none of my business” Hermione said quietly, wiping her tears away.

“I was affianced to Dracos great great grandfather, his mother didn’t approve, I was a half blood you see. The witch burned down the entire east wing with me inside it the day before my wedding.” Moira said nonchalantly.

Hermione gasped and Moira shrugged her translucent shoulders.

“That’s awful” Hermione whispered.

“Oh but Moira had her revenge, didn’t she. Tormenting my great grandmother into an early grave herself” Lucius’s haughty voice rang through the room, he stood at her doorway.

Moira smiled wickedly and glided out of the room through a wall.

“Draco is asking for you” Lucius said.

Hermione jumped up.

“He’s awake?” She asked.

“No.” Lucius said dismissively and left the room.

___


	13. THIRTEEN

~~~

Hermione went to Draco and held him until he was quiet again. More days passed with no change. She spent her time with Moira, learning about the family history and how deeply rooted their prejudice was. It wasn't a shock to learn that Moira was in fact a Weasley and the very reason for the hostility between the two families. Hermione was weary about explaining her connection to the Weasley family but the ghost never pushed. 

Blaize stopped by frequently. Never staying too long, he’d come by to speak with Lucius and pop his head in afterwards. He always initiated conversation with Hermione and she found that he wasn’t so bad, although she stil felt somewhat hesitant about him. Lucius would occasionally visit as well, always with Narcissa, Hermione would excuse herself then.

It was on one such occasion that she found her suitcase waiting for her on the bed. Hermione quickly opened it and pulled out a pair of jeans and a jumper, along with fresh undergarments. The elves cleaned her clothes during her showers but it was nice to be able to change them out. She walked back into Draco's room and found Narcissa alone. 

“I’m sorry for not thinking of it sooner. My mind is a bit hazy these days” Narcissa said as she took in her appearance. 

“Thank you, I’m still a little worried about wearing them. But it is nice to feel somewhat normal.” she said honestly. 

Narcissa nodded and left the room. 

Hermione came to Draco’s side, taking his hand in hers. She had started talking to him when she was sure they were alone. Telling him stories of her childhood. At night when she couldn’t sleep she told him about all the times she’d thought of him at school, how she used to roam the Slytherin Halls as a prefect in hopes of running into him. She told him things she hadn’t even admitted to herself. I think I’ve been waiting for you, she confessed into the darkness. Please come back to me, she pleaded, squeezing his hand. 

She was in the middle of telling him about the suitcase, how glad she was to be wearing clothes again and rambled on about her knickers too. 

“Will you show them to me?” Draco rasped. 

Hermione jolted at the sound of his voice. 

“I have to get your mum” she squeaked, pulling away. 

“Wait, knickers first” he said, smiling weakly. 

Hermione rolled her eyes at him, feeling ecstatic that he was not only awake but making jokes. It was such a good sign and she felt guilty for not letting Narcissa know with every second that passed. 

“Maybe, after. If you’re good.” she said firmly, peeling away from him. 

Narcissa and Lucius came in together. Narcissa bursts into tears at the sight of him, he was propped up against his headboard and nibbling on some crackers. He requested more substantial food but they weren’t allowed to feed him anything heavy. He scowled at that. 

Hermione began to leave the room, wanting to give them privacy. 

“Stay, Miss Granger.” Lucius said. 

Narcissa eyed her husband warily. This wasn’t going to be good, she felt like a child again being reprimanded after peeking at her Christmas presents or getting the talk. Merlin, don't let it be that. Hermione sighed and walked over to the night stand on the opposite side of them. 

“Miss Granger, is not to leave this wing while she’s here.” Lucius began and turned to face her directly. “I expect you to have those bloody rags at the ready should the need arise.” Lucius said coolly. 

“Father—“ Draco started but Lucius raised his hand at him then, quieting him. 

“The Dark Lord expects you to report as soon as you’re walking, I can push it out for another couple of weeks at the most before he considers putting the task and— Miss Granger to someone else.” He finished. 

Draco's eyes widened at that. Hermione swallowed hard. 

“That’s enough Lucius, let the boy recover properly.” Narcissa said, grabbing his shoulder. 

Lucius narrowed his eyes at Hermione and she nodded in understanding. Narcissa pulled him away turning back to give Draco one last look and a weak smile as they left the room. 

“How much of that have you had to put with?” Draco asked tensely when they were alone again. 

“It doesn’t matter” she said, crawling into bed with him. 

Hermione reached him, held his face in her hands and felt his arms wrap around her waist. 

“All that matters is that you’re awake” she whispered, tears welled in her eyes but she didn’t allow them to fall. 

Hermione didn’t kiss Draco. Didn’t want to start anything they couldn’t finish. Instead they held each other, inhaled one another. 

“I— I missed you. So much.” Hermione whispered into his neck. Telling herself that even if this all came crashing down she wanted him to know that. 

Draco held her tight, she could feel his strength returning with every squeeze. They laid like that for a while until her stomach rumbled and Rux appeared on cue with two trays. They ate together in silence with Draco watching her quietly, intense as ever. Hermione tried not to meet his stare, afraid of stirring him up. 

After another staring contest she put their food trays aside and crawled back into his lap. He kissed her then, a soft chaste kiss. 

“No more, not until you’re walking again.” she murmured against his lips. 

Draco nodded and scooted under the covers bringing her with him. Hermione turned her back into him and he held her until they both drifted off to sleep. 

The next day Draco was eager to get out of bed. Lucius came in to help him but they struggled immensely. They made it to the bathroom and back before he collapsed back into bed and nodded off, It took everything out of him. They slept together every night, even if Hermione couldn't sleep she’d lay with him and let him hold her. 

After a couple of days he started to stand on his own, taking slow steps around the room. He was antsy and going mad in the room. Hermione tried not to nag him to stay put but he could see the concern on her face. 

“I’m fine, Granger” he’d say, trying to reassure her. 

Blaize dropped in periodically and Hermione left the room when he did. Rux would immediately come and find her as soon as Draco was alone again. She tried to give him privacy whenever she could but he always asked where she was going and when she’d be back. She had to admit it was what she wanted to hear, that he wanted to be near her just as much as she did to him. 

When he wasn’t trying to stand and move about he was giving her long dizzying kisses that left her panting. Hermione insisted that he wasn’t ready for more but Draco muddled her thoughts with his tongue until she caved. 

They were doing just that in the middle of the night when his hand kept sliding into her jeans. She meant to go and change into proper pajamas, tried to several times but Draco pulled her back every time. After the fourth time she let him slide his fingers all the way in and moaned when he found how wet she was. He hissed against her neck and she grinded her hips down on his fingers. 

“Do you just walk around like this, Granger? Merlin, it drives me mad!” He said, against her throat now, his voice low and harsh. 

His fingers worked her faster now, Hermione wanted to tell him to slow down, that she was already so close, that she couldn’t hold it. But no words came out, Draco’s fingers moved at a jaw dropping speed. The sound of her wetness filled her ears and she squeezed her thighs involuntarily as he drew a loud moan out of her. She felt the pressure in her belly finally give and she writhed, panting his name against his lips. 

Draco didn’t stop, turning her facedown on the mattress and lifting her hips to tug her jeans down. He’d peeled them down past her bum when she felt his hot breath against her arse. 

“Draco, oh god— you can’t” she yelped. 

His fingers slipped between her cheeks, using her own slickness to spread it further, allowing his fingers to easily glide over her sex. Hermione shivered, that tightening in her belly returning quickly. Anticipation got the best of her and she arched her hips higher, leaning them back into his fingers. 

“Fuck— The things I want to do to you, Granger” Draco said, his voice hazy as his teeth grazed one of her cheeks gently. 

“Draco, please— I want— everything” she panted. 

His fingers moved at an excruciating slow pace now. It made her whimper and wiggle. When her arse moved he pressed his teeth a little harder on her skin until she stilled. It made her more sensitive to every touch. When he slid two fingers deep and held them inside her she felt her walls squeeze him tighter than ever. He groaned against her arse and she swore she came coming just from the sound of him. 

Hermione mumbled lewd, vulgar things into the mattress as she spiraled. Her slippery cunt squeezed and squeezed his fingers as he held them still inside her and she rocked her hips into him. When the world was right side up again she wiggled out from under him, quickly removing her jeans the rest of the way and crawling over him. 

She pushed Draco onto his back, he seemed too far gone to argue. Hermione trailed her lips and tongue down his bare chest towards his pajama bottoms, tugging them down until his cock sprang free. She looked at him, his eyes were lidded and his mouth parted. 

Hermione had never done this before but figured she could just do with her mouth what he’d taught her to do with her hands. She used one hand to hold him firmly and he moaned at her touch. She squeezed him gently, a milky liquid forming at the tip. Hermione placed her tongue there, catching it, the taste was different, somewhat salty but not unpleasant. 

“Fuck— I can’t” Draco grit out, running both his hands over his face as he let his head fall back. 

Hermione wrapped her lips around the mushroom shaped head and slowly sucked. 

“No— teeth” Draco said raggedly, watching her intently now. 

Hermione was careful to only touch him with her lips as she made her way down his length, going as far as possible. She gagged a couple of times and quickly pulled back a little, then tried again, relaxing her throat. 

“Oh that’s it—“ Draco panted when he was half way in her mouth. 

She looked up at him as he lost control, his hips pumping slightly, thrusting him deeper into her mouth, his hands fisting into the mattress. A strange feeling came over her, she needed more of him, needed to be the one responsible for his undoing. Is this how he felt when he put his mouth on her, she wondered. The thought excited her and she moved her lips in earnest now, sliding her mouth further down, ignoring the gagging sensation. Wanting to draw more sounds out of him. 

“Fuck, Hermione” he said, his hand in her hair now, gripping it tightly as she moved, her eyes never leaving his. 

She felt her body coming alive again just by watching him lose control and she moaned against his cock. She came up for air momentarily and he pulled her closer, pushing her swollen lips apart and diving his tongue inside. Hermione moaned again and he swallowed it. She used her hand now, pumping him. 

“Gonna cum— now—aggh” Draco groaned out, fisting her hair as she pumped him through his orgasm. 

“Bloody hell” he panted against her, releasing her hair. 

Hermione’s hand stilled, she could feel his cum between her fingers, warm and sticky. 

“When did you learn that?” He said holding her face. 

Hermione felt dizzy and spent. Draco reached for his wand and cleaned them up. 

“I wasn’t sure if I was doing it right” she said shyly, curling against him. 

“That was more than right, Granger. Bloody perfect.” He said in amazement. 

“Mmm” she answered, already drifting off. 

Draco laid against her, holding her as she slept, unable to fall asleep just yet. 

“You’re mine” he whispered against her hair. “Mine.” 

~~~

Hermione didn’t ask questions and Draco didn’t offer any answers. They were both focused on his recovery. He would have to report to Voldemort in a fews days and he needed all his strength. Hermione wouldn’t distract him from that or risk an argument, she didn’t want him to relive any part of the exchange and his consequential torture until he felt ready. 

She’d left him one afternoon to shower and change when Moira floated into her room. 

“Draco's collapsed, Lucius and Narcissa are on their way” Moira said softly, eyes cast down. 

Hermione bolted out of the room to find two elves trying to hold Draco down. His body seized violently, blood dripped from his mouth, he’d bitten through his tongue. She dropped to the floor to help, holding his feet. 

Lucius bursts through the door with Narcissa at her heels, she was pulling him back, gripping his arm. Lucius shook her off. 

“You can’t Lucius, we can’t be sure” Narcissa begged, Lucius was dragging her now. 

Hermione looked up to see Lucius moving towards Draco with determination, a vial of silver liquid in his hand, unicorn blood. 

“No!” Hermione screamed. Horrified by what Lucius intended to do. 

Lucius raised his wand and sent her flying backwards, she landed against an armoire and dropped, she clutched her body struggling to breathe. Hermione righted herself just as Lucius tipped the vial into Draco's mouth, his wand pointed at Narcissa. When he’d finished he dropped his wand and dropped his head to Dracos limp body, his shoulders shaking. 

“What have you done!” Narcissas sobbed on the floor. 

Hermione moved to her, holding her. They cried together. Eventually Lucius left as did the elves. Draco had been lifted back onto the bed. Hermione watched his chest rise and fall, he was calm and sleeping again. Narcissa shook and gasped, truly broken. 

“It worked” Hermione said softly, still holding Narcissa. 

“He won’t be the same” Narcissa whispered, her voice shaking.

Unicorn Blood could keep you alive but at a terrible price, you would live a cursed life with a cursed soul. The use of Unicorn Blood was forbidden for many reasons but especially after the creatures had been hunted to near extinction. There wasn’t much information on Unicorn Blood due its restricted use but Hermione had done her fair share of research on it during their first year. 

“He didn’t slay the creature. It’s possible the negative effects won’t be as severe” Hermione said, trying to sound reassuring. 

Narcissa lifted then, wiping her face and slowly regaining her usual grace. She went to Dracos bedside and kissed his forehead. 

“Let us hope that is the case” Narcissa said to Hermione before leaving the room. 

Hermione spent the night in the chair by the window. She didn’t want to disturb him in any way or fall asleep herself. Sometime in the middle of the night she’d dozed off. A crashing sound woke her, Draco was trying to stand and had knocked over the side table. He teetered on his feet, grabbing one of the columns of his bed. 

“Draco, stop— please, you have to take it slow” Hermione pleaded, as she grabbed his arm, offering him support. 

“Granger, why are you in my room?” he snarled at her, pushing her away. “What did you do to me!” His face twisted with anger. 

“Nothing— You had another seizure. Your father— he” Hermione tried explaining. 

“WHAT ARE YOU WEARING!” He yelled. 

“Please calm down, you’ll hurt yourself” Hermione said, raising her hands as she stepped away. “RUX!”

CRACK!

“GET HER OUT OF MY ROOM!” Draco ordered before she could speak. 

Hermione's eyes widened, Rux began pulling her away. 

“Draco, please sit down. Don’t go anywhere, wait Rux!” She said, the elf was surprisingly strong. 

“Rux take Miss Granger to room now” the elf squeaked. 

When she tried to pull out of his grasp the elf snapped its fingers and vanished her onto her bed. Hermione bolted out of the room, running into Narcissa and Lucius in the hallway. She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of them, feeling relieved. 

“He’s upset, he won’t listen to me” Hermione said, her voice shaking. 

“We’ll handle it, dear. I’ll come for you when he’s ready.” Narcissa said, patting her arm gently before entering his room. 

Hermione went back into her room, trying to keep the panic from rising, she counted until she felt calm. Draco didn’t seem to remember things clearly, he was confused by her regular clothing and thought she’d done something to incapacitate him. She hoped it was a temporary side effect, it would pass she told herself. 

A couple of hours passed before Narcissa came into her room, Hermione started towards the door. 

“He doesn’t want to see you—“ Narcissa said softly, placing a hand on Hermione’s shoulder to keep her from leaving. “He’s not himself right now, he’s confused.”

“What does he remember?” Hermione asked, pushing her emotions down before they broke her. 

“He remembers everything up to the day of your arrival at Malfoy Manor, Lucius is filling him in on the details of his current task and his progress thus far” Narcissa explained. 

“Will he be able to continue?” Hermione asked, closing her eyes. Bracing herself for the possibility of being given to another Death Eater. 

“Yes, it’s not just your life at stake here anymore Miss Granger. The fate of this family relies on the success of this mission. We will do everything we can to help, that includes Lucius as well.” 

Hermione nodded, unable to say anything else. 

“For his sake, please stay in this room, he needs to remain calm.” Narcissa pleased, meeting Hermione’s gaze. 

Tears fell without restraint. Of course she’d stay in her room, she wouldn’t do anything to cause him any more distress. She nodded at Narcissa as she stepped back towards the bed, hugging her middle to keep from shaking. Everything hurt. 

“I need to be alone” she said quietly. 

Narcissa gave her arm one last pat and left. 

~~~

Hermione laid in bed the rest of day, her body ached all over. She felt dramatic and pathetic but couldn’t ignore it, didn't want to. She allowed herself to feel sad, to hurt, allowed the tears to come until she fell asleep.

The next morning she occluded for several hours. Tucking away the memories of Draco like she had before, hiding the best parts of him, making sure Voldemort couldn’t get to them. She had given it a lot of thought, deciding that what mattered was that Draco was alive, that he could complete the mission. Lucius and Narcissa would help, that’s all that mattered. Their plans weren’t compromised, just delayed. 

What had happened between them was inconsequential, she told herself. She prepared herself to face Draco, whenever the time came, she would shove away her emotions and expectations. Hermione would be the partner he needed her to be, helping complete the mission. She couldn’t be sure if he remembered the plan for Voldemort, she couldn’t risk telling him or the Malfoy's without knowing where they stood. That would have to come later. 

For the time being Hermione would play her part. Even going as far as changing into the rags again, keeping only her knickers on underneath in order to avoid triggering him in any way.

He would come at night, she was sure of it. Just as he had before. This time she wouldn’t pretend to be asleep, she’d be waiting. After dinner she occluded, preparing herself, tucking away her emotions making herself numb.

She curled up in one of the chairs by the fireplace until the room darkened and she could hardly see her own hands. The door opened just before midnight, closing with a soft click. She heard his footsteps near the bed and still. The fireplace roared to life and his eyes searched the room for a few seconds before spotting her. 

This wasn’t the same Draco she’d spent the last two months with she reminded herself as he came into view. He was wearing dark grey slacks and a black button down with his sleeves rolled up. He looked healthier than ever, strong, alive and beautiful. Hermione swallowed hard and waved her hand at the chair opposite her. 

Draco smirked at her the way he had all those weeks ago. He lazily made his way to the chair, eyeing her as he took a seat. 

“You were waiting” he said, crossing one leg and leaning back. 

Hermione wanted to tell him to stop acting like an arse, remind him of everything they’d shared, their secrets and their bodies. Wanted him to know how much she missed him. But she couldn’t, she wouldn’t. She looked away and into the fire. 

“Yes” she answered. 

“My father has caught me up somewhat” his hand swept over his face into his hair. He was nervous. 

Hermione watched him as he considered his words. Unsure of what he would say. It made her anxious, excitement and fear twisting together. She closed her eyes for a second and calmed herself. 

“I’ve tried to piece some thing’s myself— of the last two months. There is something that perplexes me.” He said leaning towards her, his eyes cold and hard. 

“I’ll help however I can.” she said meeting his stare. 

Draco reached into his pocket and retrieved a small narrow vial, a silvery thread shimmered within it. Hermione's eyes widened and she began to count. Focusing on keeping her features relaxed. 

“I haven’t mentioned it to my father or the Dark Lord” he said, watching her carefully. 

“Snape gave them to you, after you killed him, we haven’t been able to find a pensive” she answered honestly. 

Hermione couldn’t stop him from viewing Snape's memories and didn’t know what they held. Her heart was racing despite all of her practice, she hadn’t expected this. How could she have forgotten about Snape's memories. 

“So you don’t know what they hold?” he asked, turning the vial in the light. 

“Draco, what if I told you that we shared our secrets to one another, that we reached a place of trust” her voice was calm and clear. 

His eyes flickered with something warm and familiar before narrowing. 

“That’s not possible.” He said, standing to leave. 

“Why not? You must know by now that you set me free and yet I’m still here, i’m staying, i’m cooperating.” she said, her voice losing some of its strength. 

He closed the distance between them, grabbing her face gently. Hermione closed her eyes, leaning into his touch and hoped. His grip tightened and her eyes shot open, she stared into his raging storm. His fingers dug into her skin painfully. 

“I know this, if you truly knew any of my secrets you’d run far away, Granger.” he spat before releasing her. 

Hermione didn’t stop him as he left the room. She curled into the chair and forbade her tears from falling, forbid herself from feeling altogether. But she couldn’t help herself from hoping, hoping he would remember them again, that he would come back to her. Please come back to me, she repeated over and over until sleep claimed her. 

~~~

Hermione stayed in her room unsure of what to do except wait. Moira kept her company most of the time. They talked about anything and everything. Hermione noticed that the ghost seemed to want to make her laugh and cheer her up. Going as far as suggesting ways in which she could seduce Draco into remembering. 

“Crawl into his bed again.” she said with a wink. 

“Oh no, we haven’t.” Hermione said, her face flushing. 

“Liar, I can walk through walls, remember.” Moira said in a teasing tone. 

Hermione thought about everything her and Draco had done and everything they hadn’t quite gotten to. Realizing Moira could read her mind she quickly shoved the images away. 

“My, my” Moira tutted. “What an utter waste of time.” She huffed out, her translucent hands on her hips.

“Tell me about it” Hermione said softly, sighing before continuing “ I suppose he was trying to be careful with me but I was also scared— he’s quite, erm large.” 

Moira looked away then, she floated away slightly. Hermione felt embarrassed, she’d felt that they could talk about these things after everything they’d shared. She now realized that Moira was from another time, these conversations weren’t the norm. Women were wed without being told anything about sex or the intimacies that occurred between lovers. 

“I’m sorry—“ Hermione said, trying to apologize. 

“I do know of such things. I just can’t give any advice. I died before my wedding day so I never had a wedding night and Septimus was very well mannered throughout our courtship.” she finished with a sigh. 

Hermione nodded.

“I still say you climb into his bed. It works for Narcissa when her and Lucius have a row.” Moira said, rolling her eyes. 

“Oh ew, oh I never needed to know that!” Hermione said, twisting her face before bursting into laughter. 

Moira joined her and the sound echoed, the fire changing to a brilliant blue. 

The laughter echoed longer than necessary and they both stilled. It wasn’t Moira’s laugh that carried through the hall. Another feminine voice carried on. Moira floated through the wall. Hermione stood and began to follow, she hesitantly opened one of the double doors and stepped out into the hall. Moira hovered by Draco’s room, peering through a cracked door. She saw Hermione near and turned to her. 

“Go back to your room!” Moira said in a harsh whisper. 

Hermiones heart raced, she had to see for herself. Stepping through Moira’s floating body she gripped the edge of the door and looked in. The sounds of soft gasps and low grunts assaulted her senses. There was movement on the bed, she saw pale white skin and a curtain of inky black hair. 

Slender fingers flipped the curtain of hair and revealed two faces, lips pressed together. Draco was on his back, his eyes closed tightly with Pansy Parkinson grinding on top. Pansy turned to her mid grind and their eyes locked. 

“Draco, I think Granger wants to join us.” Pansy said and bucked against him. 

Draco eyes shot open, he flipped Pansy on her back and grabbed his wand slamming the door in her face. Hermione stumbled back like she'd been punched in the stomach, she couldn't breathe. She turned to run into her room and slammed into a solid mass. She looked up and saw Lucius’s cold stare, a satisfied look on his face. 

“I didn’t take you for a peeping tom, Miss Granger” Lucius drawled. 

Laughter carried through Dracos door, distracting him momentarily. Hermione moved to leave and he grabbed her arm, his fingers digging into her skin painfully. 

“You’re just a pet, Mudblood. Don’t forget your place.” He snarled at her. 

“Father” Dracos said, appearing in the hallway, his fingers working on closing the button of his trousers. 

“I was taking Miss Granger back to her room, don’t let us interrupt your time with Miss Parkinson” Lucius said pulling Hermione again. 

Hermiones rage exploded, her magic coiled and she felt it move through her body up to her hands. She pushed at Lucius with all her might, he flew through the hallway and landed on his arse against a credenza, it split in half from the force. She looked at her hands with awe and horror. 

“Never touch me again!” Hermione yelled and bolted into her room. 

She slammed the door behind her. Moira floated through the wall joining her but Hermione wanted to be alone. 

“It’s not what you think, Draco cares for—“ Moira said but Hermione cut her off. 

“I don’t care, I want to be alone. Please leave.” Hermione said, her voice rising. She held her head in her hands. 

Moira floated away without another word. Hermione walked to the window. No tears came and she was glad. They won’t get to me, she thought. She vowed to finish this with Draco no matter what. There was no room for expectations or resentment. This was bigger than all of that, then all of them. 

An empty feeling settled over her. It seemed she’d finally run out of tears. She occluded for several hours, tucking everything away. A part of her wanted to hide the memory of what she’d seen, hide it so deep she’d forget but she also wanted it as a reminder and a warning. You’re nothing to him, she told herself. Finish the mission, kill Voldemort and the rest doesn’t matter. 

Hermione didn’t leave the room again. After eating her dinner alone she wished Moira would come visit. She wanted to apologize to her, the ghost had been a great friend during her brief time at Malfoy Manor, the only thing keeping her sane. She wondered if she could call out for her, she tried. A few minutes passed and Hermione felt disappointed. Then the fireplace roared, a bright blue flame came to life and Moira floated through. 

“I don’t like being summoned” the ghost said quietly floating to the window. 

“I wasn’t sure it would work. I’m sorry— you tried to stop me and I should’ve listened. I’m sorry.” Hermione repeated. 

The ghost nodded and joined her by the fireplace. The flames turned blue again as she neared. 

“When I first died I would set aflame different parts of the house, it drove the late Mrs Malfoy mad.” She said laughing lightly. 

“Perhaps you can set fire to Dracos room next time he has a visitor.” Hermione said bitterly. She covered her mouth quickly, the words had slipped before she could think. 

“Miss Granger, that’s very wicked, perhaps you should’ve been a Slytherin” Moira teased. 

Hermione laughed at the ridiculousness that would’ve been and Moira joined in. 

“Can you imagine their faces, the sorting hat would’ve been destroyed on the spot” Hermione said and they both burst into another fit of giggles. 

The door clicked open and Draco stood in the doorway. Hermione sobered quickly, rising to her feet. Moira smiled menacingly at Draco and floated through him. 

“Blast!” He exclaimed, shaking himself. 

“Yes?” Hermione asked, any trace of laughter gone from her face. 

“We leave tomorrow afternoon. I’ll come get you.” He said firmly, looking about her room, avoiding her gaze. 

Hermione took him in for a moment, closing her emotions off while she accessed him. He looked healthy, his posture straight and his skin had color again. She could tell he’d been eating better, his cheeks weren’t as hollow. He still had dark circles under his eyes. You need to sleep, she thought. The memory of him in bed with Pansy Parkinson flashed in her head and she turned away from him. 

“Can I ask where we’re going?” she said calmly, facing the window now. She felt proud of being able to keep an even tone. Inside she felt like she was crumbling. 

“America, some bloody place called Louisiana” Draco answered, with frustration. 

Hermione felt a small panic at the idea of going to America. She had met with the President a few times and a few Aurors. 

“Draco we can’t be seen in America, I can’t be seen. I’ve met with Aurors and their President several times. MACUSA is set to join The Order. It’s only a matter of time. Especially after Peru, we can’t be seen” She explained, her voice rising slightly. 

He looked at her curiously then. 

“Why would you tell me that?” He asked quietly. 

“Because we have the same goal, you prat! We're in this together!” She said exasperated. 

Control your emotions, she thought. 

Hermione heard the door close and let her rage bubble over. He was such an arse, he doubted everything she said even though it was bloody obvious she meant him no harm, she had her magic. If she wanted to fight her way out she could have a long time ago. Why was he so damn stubborn, she screamed in her head. 

She pushed thoughts of Draco away and focused on what he’d said, they were going to Louisiana. There was a large Wizarding community there and many American magical goods were exported from Louisiana. 

Hermione wondered what the next ingredient could be. Voldemort had ripped out parts of that memory, the ingredients were almost completely missing. The instructions were a bit more present but very incomplete. Her temples prickled and she decided to leave it alone, she’d find out soon enough. 

Rux delivered her dinner tray, the smell of roast beef and treacle tart filled the room. Hermione’s put aside her book to dig in. She’d just finished her dinner when chaos erupted. 

Draco rushed into her room, quickly grabbing her arm and apparating with her. They reappeared inside a large gated cell, cement walls and floors. 

“WHAT’S HAPPENING?” Hermione screamed, hugging her stomach as she took in her surroundings. Something was very wrong. 

“The Dark Lord is here, he’s requested you.” Draco said, releasing her arm and running both hands through his hair. 

__


End file.
